The Pace of Nature
by Bambi2900
Summary: Can Hotch ever share his life with someone again? Of course he can, but what are the consequences? Rated M for sexual content, language and some violence later on. I don't own Criminal Minds - I just like taking the characters out for a spin.
1. Chapter 1

Hi, firstly I'd like to say that this is my first ever fanfic so please be gentle, although any constructive criticism would be very much welcomed.

I started writing this months ago mainly just for my own fun, but soon realised that I'd quite like to see how it was received 'out there'! Therefore, the timeline doesn't exactly fit with the series (e.g. the whole Foyet thing and consequences thereof, doesn't figure at all), plus I've taken a few liberties with small things, like Jack's age (he appears later on but I've made him a couple of years older for my purposes).

The story is essentially set in three parts and I'm undecided whether to publish them all as one long stream or to divide them but probably won't have to make that decision just yet.

Also, you will have to forgive any confusion over colloquialisms. Being English, but a huge fan of a lot of American TV, etc., I hope that my meaning isn't clouded by differences in language too much.

Anyway, without further ado, I hope you enjoy this and please review!


	2. Chapter 2

"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience."  
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chapter 1

Lizzie sluiced the water from her body and stepped out of the shower. She took the towel from its rail and began to dry herself. She imagined Hotch drying himself with this towel and felt a delightful, sharp tightening low in her belly at the thought. She smiled and chided herself for thinking about her boss in that way. She admired and respected him a great deal but had always thought he was absolutely gorgeous and couldn't help the odd twinge of lust sometimes when he made eye contact with her or flashed his amazing, but rare, smile. She'd worked for him for nearly three years, having applied only half-seriously, never really believing she'd be successful, shortly after having arrived in America from England, where she'd lived since she was a child, and in that time she had come to admire him more than just physically.

Lizzie brought herself back to the present and reminded herself that she shouldn't be dawdling. After all, she wasn't really supposed to use his shower but Hotch was away in New York on a case and she'd had to get the bus and walk into work as her car was at the garage. Well, she _thought_ that Hotch was in New York – just then she heard his office door open and what could have been the sound of a bag being dropped on the floor. _Damn it_,she thought. If he'd been ten minutes later, or she a little quicker, she would have been dressed and sitting at her desk when he arrived. She hurriedly started to rub her hair with the towel when she heard him open the adjoining door to her office, but she obviously wasn't there so he closed the door again. A moment later Lizzie thought the floor had dropped out from underneath her as just then, Hotch opened the door to the bathroom and was standing in the doorway, a look of stunned surprise on his face. Lizzie was acutely aware of her nakedness but a small part of her brain registered the fact that his deep brown eyes had flicked down to her breasts and lingered there a moment before he remembered himself and met her gaze again.

"Jeez, I'm sorry Lizzie, I didn't expect to find you in here," he said in his beautiful, deep yet soft American accent and, before she could say anything in reply, he'd backed out of the room and closed the door.

Lizzie could feel her heart thumping fast inside her chest and then remembered to breathe. She hurriedly finished drying her hair, brushed it and put on her clothes, silently cursing as the zip of her skirt jammed in her haste. Then, after hanging the towel on the rail again and quickly glancing around the room to make sure she'd put everything back in its place, she took a deep breath and stepped out into Hotch's office.

"Hotch, I'm so sorry, I know I'm not supposed to…" Lizzie blurted out.

"It's okay, it's okay!" He interrupted. Hotch loved the way she said his name, her accent giving the O a clipped sound that no-one else used. "It was just a bit of a surprise is all. I'm… sorry for walking in on you." He looked genuinely embarrassed which was not an emotion that Lizzie often saw in him as he was usually so certain of himself, and she guiltily thought it made him even sexier. Lizzie should have been mortified about what had happened, indeed if it had been anyone else she would right now have been quite literally digging a hole for herself. But she couldn't help but smile at his discomfiture. She managed to control the urge after a moment but he'd evidently seen it and decided to change the subject. "I, er, didn't see your car in the parking lot so I didn't even know you were here," he continued.

"No, it's… at the garage. I got the bus in today." Lizzie was suddenly troubled as she realised that letting her imagination run like this, particularly when he was sitting right there in front of her, was not exactly professional behaviour. Okay, they'd never been coldly professional with each other anyway but even so…

"Ah, hence the shower," he said, now understanding her slight infraction of the rules and quickly smiling back at her to put her at her ease. She was grateful for the sentiment but it only served to make her more uncomfortable as the thoughts she was trying to suppress came back to her wilful mind.

"Erm, I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'd better get on… got a stack of work…" and turned to go.

* * *

Lizzie tried to walk calmly out of the room but felt like she was fleeing. She closed the door between the two offices, somehow reached her desk on legs that suddenly felt as though all the bones had been removed, and rested her hands on it, feeling both guilty and excited. She got on well with her boss – she liked him a great deal – and she knew he liked her too. For starters she got away with a lot more than most people did: flinging the odd flirty innuendo into the conversation and playfully joking with him. But today… Well, today he had seen her naked. Completely and utterly stark naked. She kept having to remind herself that that wasn't necessarily a good thing, despite what her libido might be trying to tell her. After all, she had to work closely with him every day – well, when he wasn't off in a different city working on a case, at any rate – and this could cause difficulties between them professionally.

But it couldn't be helped. Lizzie kept thinking back to his lowered gaze and the momentary flash in those startling eyes of… what? Admiration? Hunger? That's what she liked to think anyway. The rational part of her brain tried to tell her that, confronted with a not unattractive naked woman, most men would probably do just the same and she didn't exactly blame him. She grinned to herself as she briefly fantasised about him having taken her in his arms and kissed her feverishly, his hands softly roaming over the smooth skin of her back. Lizzie gave a small gasp as this vision sent that sudden familiar tightening through her again.

"No. Stop it, Lizzie!" she muttered to herself, straightening up and collecting herself. She sat at her desk as her phone rang. It was a college in D.C. asking for Hotch to do a guest lecture and Lizzie managed to lose herself for a time in the arrangements and finer details of the engagement.

* * *

Hotch watched Lizzie leave his office and smiled at her embarrassment. She looked like a lost little girl when she was embarrassed as the colour flew to her lightly freckled cheeks. All the same, he had always thought she was beautiful – he had done since the first time he met her. But he'd been married then – okay just barely married, but still...

He didn't mind her having used his shower anyway, in fact he was glad he'd been sitting at his desk while she was standing there with her hair still damp and the flush on her face as all that time a part of him couldn't stop thinking about her soft, round breasts and flat stomach, and he'd been worried that she would notice his arousal. That was the last thing he wanted her to know about. He'd been extremely conscious of keeping his eyes on her face and not allowing himself another glimpse at her chest. He guiltily shook his head and stood up to go and splash his face with water. He was tired after the flight back from New York and the case was still going around in the back of his mind, but when he opened the bathroom door again, he smelled Lizzie's perfume and he paused, trying to put it out of his mind.

"Jeez," he said quietly to himself, "get a grip, Hotch!" He turned on the tap and washed his face, then he noticed that the towel had fallen off the rail; in her haste, Lizzie must not have noticed it fall. He picked it up and started to dry himself but he could smell her even more strongly now: a calming, slightly floral scent that he'd detected on her in the past when she'd happened to come close. He leaned back against the hand basin for a moment, holding the towel in his hands and imagining her standing there again, demure yet alluring, with her perfect breasts that were not large but just the ideal size, and her nipples standing hard and erect from the draught he had let in from the air-conditioned room next door.

* * *

Later, Lizzie was sitting in her small office eating her lunch and enjoying a quiet moment to sit and read her book for a while. She often ate in her office as it was quieter than the canteen where it was simply impossible to read without being disturbed every two minutes and it also meant she was on hand in case Hotch needed her for anything. She had just finished her bowl of pasta salad when Hotch came in with a cup of tea.

"I'm sorry to disturb your break, Lizzie," he opened.

"Oh it's no problem," she replied, slipping a bookmark into her book and moving the empty bowl to the side. "What can I do for you?"

"Well I've been thinking about this morning and, er, got you this as a sort of apology. I'm sorry I burst in on you," he said, setting the cup down on her desk then sitting across from her. "I hope you don't feel too uncomfortable about it."

"Please, it's fine, Hotch. It was my fault anyway for being in there in the first place," she replied. "I do appreciate the tea though," Lizzie said with a grin. "Er... I'm afraid I used your towel though. I'm sorry, I didn't bring one with me. I'll take it home and wash it tonight."

"Lizzie, you're more than welcome to use the shower anytime you need to. And don't worry about the towel," he replied with a twinge of shame, not wanting her to wash her scent off it. "I can sort that out."

"Hey," Lizzie said with mock annoyance and a mischievous smile on her face that Hotch suddenly found incredibly sexy. "Are you trying to put me out of work? I'm your PA, remember? That's _my _job!"

"God forbid I should ever do that," Hotch replied smiling back at her, his hands raised in mock surrender. "I couldn't do a half of what you do. And the other half I probably don't even know about," he added after a pause.

Lizzie found herself melting under his gaze. The brown eyes were looking directly into hers and the laughter in them was something she saw so infrequently – that was why she had never curbed her sense of humour around him as others had. God knew, he needed to laugh; he encountered the absolute worst of humanity almost on a daily basis and was the rock that his team of expert profilers all leant on – she was sure that none of the team knew just how much he did for them behind the scenes. Not to mention that his wife, his high-school sweetheart, had left him after twenty years, taking his son away with her. She didn't know Hayley that well as the separation happened shortly after Lizzie had started her job, but it wasn't a secret as to why she'd left him; Lizzie just didn't agree with her reasons and she instinctively disliked Hayley for causing him pain. It wasn't entirely rational, she knew – she was bound to be biased in his favour – but all the same, she hated the effect it had on Hotch and couldn't forgive Hayley for that. It made her sad that such a strikingly handsome and good man should suffer that kind of loss. "Thank you," she said, a little embarrassed at the compliment and worried that she'd paused too long before replying.

Hotch smiled again in response then changed the subject. "So what are you reading now?"

Lizzie glanced down at her book and replied, "The Last of the Mohicans."

"Really?" he asked. "I'm impressed!" Lizzie looked at him quizzically so he elaborated: "I had to read it in my freshman year at school and I hated it!" he said ironically. "But here you are, reading it for pleasure?"

Lizzie grinned. "It's a wonderful story," she exclaimed, "but the language is pretty hard-going and there are altogether far too many commas and semi-colons for the narrative to flow properly. I'm surprised they gave it to a bunch of teenagers to try and decipher!" Hotch seemed amused by this and interested at the same time so she picked up the book and turned it to the page she was on then continued: "Here, listen to this: 'But Uncas, who had vainly sought him in the mêlée, bounded forward in pursuit; Hawk-eye, Heyward, and David still pressing on his footsteps. The utmost that the scout could effect was to keep the muzzle of his rifle a little in advance of his friend, to whom, however, it answered every purpose of a charmed shield. Once Magua appeared disposed to make another and a final effort to revenge his losses; but, abandoning his intention as soon as demonstrated, he leaped into a thicket of bushes, through which he was followed by his enemies, and suddenly entered the mouth of the cave already known to the reader.'" After a short pause Lizzie looked up again, saying, "I've read Austen, Shelley, Brontë and others of about the same period but the language in this seems a lot more archaic. Even Poe and Dickens weren't as stuffy as this guy!"

"Maybe I should give it another try then," Hotch said.

"Honestly," Lizzie replied, "if you can get past the difficult prose it's a great book and it's not a bit girly like the film!"

Hotch paused for a second then said, "the film wasn't all that 'girly', as you call it! Don't you remember the guy being burned at the stake?"

"Well, okay, maybe that bit wasn't girly," said Lizzie, grimacing at the memory of the character of Major Duncan Heyward being burned alive by the enemy Indians. "But all that gooey romance with Daniel Day-Lewis and Madeleine Stowe – there isn't a mention of it in the book. It's more about loyalty and nobility than love in that sense."

At that moment, JJ, the team's liaison officer, knocked on the door and came into Lizzie's office. "Hotch, we're meeting in the board room in five minutes." JJ was a pretty blonde who looked far too fragile to cope with voracious journalists and other stresses of her job, but she was a lot tougher than she looked and Lizzie had always admired her; although at this precise moment she was a little frustrated at JJ's timing – Lizzie couldn't remember a time when Hotch had actually sat down and had a real 'chat' with her!

"Okay," he replied, looked back at Lizzie with another smile that made her want to whimper, stood and went into his own office.

"Hi JJ," said Lizzie.

"Hi Lizzie. Oh, do you have the file on the Wagner case?"

"Yes, I think so," said Lizzie, getting up and walking over to the wooden filing cabinet in the wall behind her. Opening a drawer and looking through the files for the one JJ had asked for, she said, "here you go. Why do you need it?"

"Thanks. I've got a hunch there may be a connection to this new case we're taking on. There's something strange about the MO..." JJ tailed off there, looking at a document in the file. "Thanks," she repeated absently and left.

Another case, Lizzie thought, sighing. Probably means Hotch will be away again for a few days. Suddenly Lizzie knew she was going to miss him.

* * *

Returning to his hotel room in Bridgeport, NY, that evening, Hotch began to unload the paperwork he planned on trawling through before getting some shut-eye. He went into the bathroom to freshen up a little but the sight of the shower brought back memories of another bathroom and a certain little brunette standing with water dripping onto her beautiful breasts from her wet hair. Hotch shook his head to dispel the vision, splashed his face with water and went back into the bedroom and sat at the desk, preparing to work. He tried to concentrate for nearly an hour but all he could think about was touching that soft, smooth skin, lightly grazing a nipple with his fingertips…

Hotch stood up abruptly, angry with himself for not being able to control his thoughts. He paced the room a couple of times, then gave it up for a bad job and went to take a shower before going to bed.

The minute he began to relax under the stream of warm water, though, those thoughts came back, bombarding him with visions of Lizzie's gorgeous little body pressed against his own. He groaned in frustration as the blood began to rush to his groin and he knew he'd never get to sleep with that!

Reaching down to take himself in hand, he tried to think about anything but Lizzie. He knew that when he got back to Quantico and had to sit at his desk giving her instructions, his traitor brain would remind him of this and he'd feel ashamed that, if she knew, she'd think he'd objectified her in the worst possible way, when all he wanted to do was worship those sweet, plump mounds with his mouth and touch every inch of her ivory skin with reverence. Okay, she wasn't ever actually going to find out but _he'd_ know all the same.

For a second he toyed with the idea of getting out of the shower and finding a porn channel on the TV in his room but rejected that thought immediately – the fact that it would show up on his bill was only secondary to the certain knowledge that none of those women could take his mind away from the tantalising glimpse he had had that morning.

"Fuck!" he admonished himself and just let his imagination take him where it would. He would just have to reconcile his conscience another time; right now, he knew he wouldn't get a wink of sleep if he didn't do something about his almost painful erection and he had to be on top form in the morning to work the case.

He closed his eyes and leaned one hand against the cool tiles of the shower while he began stroking his length with the other. He imagined Lizzie's elegant hand wrapping around his shaft, her thumb gently rubbing that drop of pre-cum over his sensitive head while he sucked and nibbled at the delicate skin of her neck and throat. He thought of the feel of her hard little nipples under his tongue and how he would kiss every inch of those incredible breasts.

He gave out a stifled groan when, in his mind's eye, he saw Lizzie position his cock at the entrance to her pussy and almost felt her hot, slick folds closing around him as he imagined slowly pushing inside her. His fist pumped harder and his hips joined in the rhythm, drawing him close to his end as, in his fantasy, he moved in and out of her, faster and faster until she cried out his name in ecstasy, driving him to his imaginary and actual release.

Hotch leaned his head on his forearm, breathing heavily and enjoying the feeling of euphoria for a moment before he had to wake up to reality. After a while he stood up straight and began to wash himself in readiness for bed, mixed feelings roiling through is brain. That had just been one of the most potent and realistic fantasies he'd had in a long time but, at the same time, he knew he couldn't allow himself to indulge in it again, not while Lizzie worked for him.

He got out of the shower, dried himself off and took his comfortable sleep pants from his bag, putting them on and slipping between the covers. After turning the light out, he fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry it's taken me a while to upload this but you know what it's like preparing for Christmas! Anyway, here's the second chapter for you all and thanks for your patience!**

* * *

Hotch had been gone nearly a week and Lizzie had indeed missed him. It was always a lot quieter when the team were away but this time it was the little things she missed, like making him a coffee when she was getting herself a drink, or typing up his case notes. For some reason she loved his handwriting – she suspected it was something to do with him being left-handed that gave it its artistic tendency. She kept reminding herself that she had no business feeling that way but that little devil in her mind frequently distracted her with thoughts of his mouth on her lips, or her breasts, or between her legs. She didn't know what had got into her lately – okay, she'd always found Hotch attractive but this was getting ridiculous!

One such time, towards the end of the day, she was filing some papers in his office and paused as the feeling of pleasure washed through her, when she noticed that a light bulb had gone out above his desk. Glad of something useful to do rather than moon about the office, and rather than fill out a report, send it to the janitorial team and wait days for them to sort it out, Lizzie always kept a supply of such things in her office. She went and fetched one, returned to Hotch's office, took off her shoes, climbed onto the desk and was just putting in the new bulb when Hotch appeared.

"Hey," he said, concerned. "What are you doing up there?"

"Oh I'm just changing a bulb," Lizzie replied. "I won't be a second."

"What are you doing that for?" he asked, closing the door and walking into the room. "Don't we have maintenance people who change light bulbs?"

"Yes but they take forever. It's easier just to do it myself," Lizzie replied with a wave of her hand as if to say it was nothing. She then prepared to jump down but before she could, Hotch had crossed to the desk in two strides and was reaching up to help her down. Lizzie tentatively put her hands on his shoulders and she could feel his strong fingers through her top, gently encircling her waist. She stepped off the desk and the movement must have caused her top to move as, for an instant, Hotch's hand touched her skin. Lizzie felt it like a jolt of electricity; his hands were warm and gentle and she didn't want that touch to ever go away. She found herself looking into those eyes again and the feeling made her forget everything else that was happening. Until she landed on the floor, stumbling and twisting her ankle.

"Ow!" she cried out before she could stop herself.

"Are you okay?" Hotch asked, concerned.

"I've just twisted my ankle a little, that's all," Lizzie tried to make light of it although it hurt terribly.

"Oh jeez, I'm sorry", he was immediately anxious and contrite. "Here, sit down." He sat her at his desk and, to Lizzie's amazement, he knelt down and began to feel her ankle. "Does this hurt?" he asked. A part of her didn't want him to stop but it did hurt – it hurt like hell – and she had to tell him yes. She was disappointed but not surprised when he gently placed her foot on the floor again.

"It's not broken or anything but you probably won't be able to walk on it for a while. You certainly won't be able to drive."

"Hotch, I'll be fine, if you could just help me to my office I'll sit down for a bit and…"

"Don't be ridiculous, you're not moving from that chair," he interrupted. Lizzie was struck by the command, reminded once again why people, and not just his team, trusted him as a leader and followed him so willingly. His voice had an air of authority that could not be contested but at the same time, he was always careful not to ride roughshod over other people's opinions or wishes. Yet another reason why she found him so amazingly attractive.

She put an expression of contrived meekness on her face and said, "yes, sir." Hotch looked up at her, thinking for a moment that she was mocking him, but he saw the smile that she couldn't keep from her lips and realised she was just playing. No-one else ever talked to him like that and he didn't really know why he let her get away with it… okay, maybe he did know, but it was totally unlike him.

"Now, you be a good girl and stay there while I get an ice pack," he said, "can you do that for me?" Hotch was half playing along but also half concerned that she really would get up and start tidying his office or something.

"As you asked so nicely, yes, I can do that," Lizzie replied naughtily. Hotch gave her a big smile that made Lizzie forget to breathe for a moment, and left the room to fetch an ice pack. Lizzie leaned back in his big leather chair and sighed to herself; she couldn't help but think about the feel of his fingers on her skin and, for the moment, as she wasn't supposed to move, she allowed herself to develop this fantasy in her mind. She imagined his hand having slowly moved up inside her shirt to gently cup her breast, and his face drawing closer until his lips touched hers in a light but charged kiss. Then she pictured him kissing her harder and with more urgency, his tongue parting her lips to enter her mouth and his hands unbuttoning her shirt before stripping it off her shoulders. Lizzie could feel herself becoming aroused and closed her eyes to enjoy the fantasy.

She was startled back to reality when Hotch returned. In her imagination, his lips had been encircling her nipple with his tongue gently flicking back and forth over it. She berated herself once again for allowing her mind to wander in this unseemly fashion. Yes, it was delicious but it occurred to her that it was also not fair on Hotch; he'd be appalled if he knew what she was thinking. She mentally promised herself that she would do everything she could to resist the urge in future, particularly while she was at work.

"Here you go," he said, kneeling down and taking her foot in his hand, which was beautifully warm through the thin material of her stockings. He placed it in his lap and gently held the ice pack against her ankle. "How does that feel?"

"A little better, thanks," she replied. "I'm sorry to be such a nuisance, Hotch."

"It's nothing. Okay, perhaps you shouldn't really have been climbing on desks in the first place," Lizzie dropped her eyes to her lap at this but Hotch leaned forward and raised her chin so her eyes met his, "but it just goes to show how well you look after me." He was smiling at her again; she could still feel the warmth of his fingers under her chin and his thigh under the sole of her foot and just about managed a smile back.

"Okay," Hotch said after a moment's pause, clearing his throat. "Well, you're obviously not going to be driving tonight so I'll take you home."

He said it so matter-of-factly, as if he was doling out tasks for his team, but Lizzie couldn't believe what she was hearing and was jolted back to life. "Hotch, please, I'm fine," she protested. "I don't want you to go to all that trouble for a silly twisted ankle."

"It's no trouble, Lizzie, it's the least I can do. Besides, I still haven't made it up to you for…" his voice ground to a halt. He still worried that Lizzie would be feeling ill at ease about the previous week's events but realised that bringing the subject up again would probably be somewhat counterproductive. Although, truth be told, he had barely stopped thinking about it himself and torturing himself with the vision.

"For what?" Lizzie asked, confused, not being able to imagine anything that he needed to make up for.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to remind you."

"Remind me of what?" Lizzie persisted.

"Well… you… and the shower… and…" Hotch was uncharacteristically hesitant.

"But," Lizzie's bafflement only increased. "You already made it up to me. Not that you needed to of course," she added quickly. "You made me that cup of tea, remember?"

"Well that doesn't exactly even things up does it?" he scoffed.

Lizzie smiled and said, "Hotch, you're forgetting a perfectly good cultural stereotype: a good cuppa – and it was a very good one – is a powerful thing to the English!"

"You're not English though," he replied, as though reminding her of the fact.

"No, not technically, but I was raised there," she asserted. "A few things rubbed off you know!"

He laughed at that but wasn't going to be budged. "Well I'm glad you enjoyed your 'cuppa' but I'm still driving you home. How do you expect to be in control of a vehicle with a dodgy ankle?"

"I'll call a cab–"

"A cab'll cost you fifty bucks, Lizzie. Don't argue with me."

"You know, if you really want to make it up to me…" Lizzie started. The order had brought out her impish side.

"Yes?" Hotch asked with some trepidation: he knew that tone of voice and it usually presaged mischief.

"Well, I mean to say, there's only really one way we can be even," she finished playfully, looking at him with a grin and one eyebrow raised in query. Hotch took a moment to grasp her meaning. "Well, you've seen me naked…" Realisation, then shocked amusement dawned on his face and Lizzie detected a faint colouring of his cheeks when he tried to look at her sternly yet failing miserably.

"Behave yourself."

"Sorry, couldn't resist it."

* * *

Hotch was hurrying to bring his SUV round to the front of the building. He'd felt a thrill of excitement at Lizzie's words. Rationally, he knew it was just playful flirting and didn't really mean anything but oh, what he wouldn't give to be naked with that woman! He was aware that she liked him but she had a mischievous sense of humour that was delightful but made him pause before reading too much into what she said.

He reflected that Lizzie had an ability to bring him out. He knew he brooded a lot and he had something of a reputation throughout the FBI headquarters here in Quantico for never smiling. But it was different with Lizzie – she made everything seem lighter in a way that he'd never known before, not even with Hayley. He knew he let her get away with murder (for want of a better expression): she was the only person who could make fun of him to his face, for starters; in fact, he actually liked it in a strange way. He supposed it was because she also made fun of herself just as much and it was never done maliciously, it was always… well… affectionate, now he came to think about it. Also, she had never done it in front of anyone else; it was only when they were alone. He found himself smiling a lot more when he was with her: she was quick-witted and always had a rejoinder ready for any situation – well, most situations anyway: on odd occasions she would blush furiously and miss her cue. But that just made her even cuter.

He groaned as he admitted this to himself. It was the last thing he needed, to develop a crush on the best PA he'd ever had. Okay, he'd fantasised about her that time in the shower, plus he'd always been fond of her and appreciated what she did for him but to actually allow his attraction to her to develop? He parked up and re-entered the building, taking the stairs two at a time instead of waiting for the lift. And could she possibly be attracted to him too? Had it all been signals that he had blindly ignored, thinking it just her usual way? After all, she subjected the other members of the team to her irreverent ribaldry too – it wasn't reserved only for him.

Realising that he was doubting his own judgement, he told himself to get a grip. Even if they were both tempted, he couldn't allow anything to happen. Okay, it wasn't written anywhere that colleagues couldn't have a relationship but it was still frowned upon, and his own immediate boss, Section Chief Erin Strauss, would probably not look too kindly on it. No matter what he told himself, however, the feeling of her soft skin under his fingers as she had stepped off his desk kept coming back to him.

* * *

Despite her protests, Hotch knew that Lizzie was still in some considerable pain as she'd had difficulty walking to the car, so when they arrived at her apartment, he insisted on helping her inside. He put his arm around her small waist and tried to be gentle as he took her hand in his free one and slowly led her up the two flights of stairs to her apartment. He had to suppress a smile when he thought of sweeping her off her feet and carrying her up the stairs like Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara but he managed to stop himself before actually doing that and he tried to ignore the fact that her body was pressed against his and her warmth was spreading through him. When she'd opened the door, she asked him in for a drink and he wondered for a moment if it was just out of politeness.

"Please Hotch, it's the least I can do… Besides I'd be glad of the company." He accepted after a little hesitation (and some persistence from Lizzie) as he felt he couldn't leave her until she was settled and comfortable. She directed him to the cosy living room where he sat her down and she offered him a drink; "I've got wine, brandy, whisky, beer – pretty much whatever you fancy. I'm afraid you'll have to fetch it yourself though," she said with a smile, indicating her ankle.

"No problem. Can I get you anything?"

"I'll have a glass of wine, thanks. There's a bottle in the fridge and the glasses are in the cupboard on the left as you go into the kitchen."

They sat and talked for a while, both revelling in the opportunity to communicate as friends and equals rather than employer/employee. Hotch surprised himself at how much he opened up to her – normally he would shy away from revealing anything about his life outside the bureau, even with Lizzie, but tonight they chatted and laughed together as if it was perfectly normal for them to do so.

* * *

Hotch's smile was electrifying to Lizzie. He was sitting sideways on the sofa, facing her, his elbow resting on the back and his head casually supported by his fist. He had removed his jacket and tie and his proximity to her made Lizzie want to reach out and touch him, to feel his skin against her own. He was giving her his undivided attention and she loved it, didn't want for it to end. She found she enjoyed talking to him and finding out more about him. It did feel a little strange to be sharing things with her boss but then as the evening wore on, and the wine flowed, she found she kept conveniently forgetting that fact. She knew he wouldn't forget it though which, strangely, gave her the confidence to flirt a little with him, because she trusted him and knew he'd always be a gentleman.

A lot of their conversation was about the differences in their cultures; Lizzie was describing the source of her humour, explaining some of the more obscure pop culture references that she sometimes quoted. Hotch's laugh was infectious and Lizzie loved provoking it and, after a while, they were both laughing so hard that tears were streaming down Lizzie's face. She began to wipe them away and looked up at Hotch, still suffering from the after-effects of their mirth. He reached towards her, his fingers lightly touching her face, and gently wiped an errant tear away with his thumb; all the time their eyes were locked together. Instantly Lizzie felt energised. She wondered if he was somehow aware of it as his hand didn't move away, instead he rested his palm on her cheek. Lizzie closed her eyes to savour the warmth of his touch and was only vaguely aware of him moving until she felt his lips touch hers. For a split second, the surprise of it took her aback and she felt him begin to draw away but, fearful that she'd never get another chance, Lizzie's hand snaked around the back of his neck and drew him back towards her. This time, the kiss was less tentative, more urgent. He took her face in his hands and his tongue licked her lips, asking for entrance. Lizzie opened her mouth and felt his tongue slip smoothly in to entwine with hers. The heat began to grow inside her, concentrating between her legs, and she gave out a small moan of pleasure while her hand caressed the back of his neck.

* * *

Hotch couldn't quite believe he'd done it but his body had seemingly acted of its own volition, not allowing his brain the opportunity to talk him out of it. As soon as he'd touched her face, his earlier thoughts had been confirmed – he knew she felt the same as he did – and he had been unable to take his hand away; it was inevitable then that he would kiss her, regardless of the consequences. And now he found himself kissing this beautiful, vibrant woman – and she was kissing him back, with interest. Her tongue licked his bottom lip before her teeth gently tugged at it. They pulled apart for a moment, their eyes meeting briefly, and then she was kissing him hard and her hand was in his hair, pulling him towards her. He could feel his passion grow when Lizzie's other hand brushed his thigh and moved slowly upwards.

Suddenly the reality of it hit him. He caught and held her hands, breaking from their kiss. He started to stammer an apology when he looked into Lizzie's eyes and momentarily saw confusion and hurt that she couldn't hide. "Lizzie, I'm so sorry," he began. "I… shouldn't have done that."

"Why not?" she asked simply, a little breathlessly.

"Because we can't…"

"I repeat: why not?" she said gently. "I like you. I presume you like me, or you wouldn't have just kissed me. So what else is there?"

Hotch badly wanted to share her uncomplicated view of the situation. "Lizzie, I wish things were that simple. You're beautiful and funny and kind…" Lizzie looked down modestly at her hands, still held in his, and Hotch almost forgot the argument he was about to give. He lowered his head so he could catch her eyes and looked back up into them. "But I am your boss, remember; we work together every day." He watched her face fall in resignation and briefly hoped that was a sign that she would accept his explanation because he didn't think he'd be able to resist her if she persisted.

She sighed and said with a small smile, "I knew you'd say that. Look, I'm well aware that you do everything you can to keep your work and private lives separate – and I totally respect that–"

"I know you do Lizzie, but that's not the reason…" He paused, gathering strength, resisting with no little effort the urge to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "It's just not… appropriate for us to become involved."

That mischievous smile sneaked its way back onto her face as she said, "well, who says I want to become involved? I might just want some really hot, no-strings sex!"

Hotch, yet again, was speechless. He was almost sure that she was at least partly joking but the implications of what she had just said whirled around his mind like a tornado, too fast for him to actually catch hold of any one thought and make sense of it.

Lizzie laughed. "I'm sorry," she said, still smiling, "I couldn't resist it. Look, Hotch," she went on, "you know I respect you a huge amount, don't you?" He assented, flattered. "You're one of the most intelligent people I know… but right now you're talking complete bollocks!" For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Hotch was taken completely off-guard and simply continued to look at her in amused disbelief. She smiled at his surprise and rested one of her hands warmly on his forearm, saying, "I'm sorry, that sounded a lot harsher than it was meant to," her smile turning a little sheepish. "But there's no law, no official rule, that says I'm not allowed to get into your pants –" this time her audacity just made him smile; he felt he was almost getting used to it, although he knew that kind of complacency would probably come back and haunt him, "– only your admirable but bloody-annoying-at-this-precise-moment-in-time sense of duty." She paused a moment, then went on a little more seriously. "Look, I'm sorry, Hotch, I don't want to pressurise you or make you uncomfortable. If you don't want this, it's fine – we'll say no more about it and everything will go back to the way it was, I promise." Again she paused to allow him to process this. "But if you want me the way I want you… well…" she shrugged, "why not give it a try? You might even find you like it!" she added, a mischievous grin stealing onto her face again.

Hotch followed her warped logic and found that it made sense, somehow; maybe because, deep down, he wanted it to, despite his misgivings. He was fighting against years of self-control but it was the fight itself that told him what he wanted. And the fact that he hadn't been able to relinquish his hold on her hand. He'd made his decision.

He reached out and touched her cheek again, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "You know," he said softly, "being with you is just a little bit scary."

She knew he meant it as a sort of twisted compliment and smiled. "Don't worry, babe. Don't I always look after you?"

He returned her smile; she certainly did look after him but that didn't make being with her feel any less like he was relinquishing his last shred of control to her. He decided that, for now, he would forget about that and instead concentrate on the new sensation of touching her which was infinitely more pleasant. He allowed his fingers to stray down to her neck as they drew together and their lips met again with growing passion. His other hand drifted into her hair, his fingers running through the soft tresses, and he felt her rest one hand on his chest, the other finding his thigh again. He leaned down to explore her neck with his mouth and let out a low moan as her scent and taste filled his senses. Then her hand had found the bulge in his trousers and she pushed him back. He worried for a moment that his arousal had put her off somehow but his fears were allayed when she lifted herself to straddle him on the sofa, hitching her skirt over her smooth, shapely legs.

Still kissing her neck, he began to slowly unbutton her shirt and his mouth migrated hungrily southwards to her breast which was rising and falling in her passion. He removed her top and immediately went to the clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts so that his mouth could taste her nipple, teasing the hard bud with his tongue and earning a delicious moan from her lips. She had her arms around him, one hand cradling his head, her fingers kneading gently through his hair, and started rocking out a slow rhythm in his lap, giving a small gasp as the pressure of his growing bulge rubbed against her panties. Then she was unbuttoning his shirt to run her hands leisurely over his chest and shoulders. He looked at her enquiringly, seeking confirmation that they were doing the right thing.

Lizzie knew what that look meant and mouthed the words "I want you." Those three, simple words sent a thrill of exaltation through him and he put his hands on her bum and lifted her up with him, marvelling at how light she was in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his hips and directed him to the bedroom.

* * *

Moonlight was streaming through the windows, providing enough light for Hotch to find Lizzie's bed where he gently lowered her. His mouth was hungry for her smooth skin and explored her flat tummy, eliciting light moans from her while his tongue traced a line from her breasts to her navel, before slipping her skirt and panties over her hips and discarding them on the floor. He knelt on the floor in front of her, bringing his mouth back up to hers and gently parting her legs with his hand, giving out a low growl as his fingers found her dripping core. Lizzie's breath caught as he inserted first one, then two, long, dextrous fingers into her pussy and began slowly to glide them in and out of her as his mouth sought her nipple again, then continued down, past her breasts.

Lizzie was stunned when she felt his other hand part her wet folds and his tongue graze her hard nub. She lay back on the bed and her moans became stronger as he enclosed it in his mouth, sucking gently, while he stretched her with a third finger. She pushed her hips forward for more, arching her back, and she felt, rather than heard, his rumble of pleasure through her body as he slowly circled her clit with his tongue. Lizzie then gave out a small whine of protest as he removed his fingers from her pussy, only to gasp as they were replaced by his tongue darting in and out of her, lapping up her juices. His thumb took over attending to her clit by gently rubbing it while he tongue-fucked her into a quivering, whimpering mass of jelly. Before long, she was unable to hold back any longer: Hotch's skilled ministrations had built up the fire inside her to a shuddering pitch and she cried out his name as rolling waves of ecstasy flowed through her.

* * *

Hotch had surprised himself a little when he found himself between her legs, but he had been unable to stop. When his fingers had encountered her wetness, he knew he had to taste her and was infinitely glad he had, as her exquisite scent and taste had imbued his entire body with the need to have her, and she quivered in his grasp. He gently kissed her thighs while Lizzie's breathing calmed a little and she raised herself up again to take his head in her hands. She looked deep in his eyes for a moment, her pupils almost completely dilated so all he could see were two endless pools of darkness. Then she darted forward to press her mouth to his, immediately demanding entrance with her tongue and kissing him deeper than ever before. She seemed to relish the taste of her own juices on his tongue and Hotch felt himself strain almost painfully against his trousers in response.

Lizzie must have read his mind as her hands then dropped to his belt, feverishly undoing the buckle then moving onto his zipper and sliding his trousers and underwear down to free his hard member, provoking a soft gasp of admiration from her throat. She stood up slowly, drawing him with her, then turned and pushed him down onto the bed where she had just been a moment ago. She sat astride his legs again and took him in one hand, gripping tightly with her fist. Hotch closed his eyes and growled deep in his chest, a grin spreading over his face as her hand began to glide slowly up and down his shaft. He propped himself up on his hands, the better to admire her, then reached out to run his hand slowly up one of her legs, over her hip and waist to rest finally in the small of her back as Lizzie leaned forward slightly to press her mouth to his, her tongue immediately probing and her free hand running up his arm, over his shoulder to rest on his neck. He wrapped both arms around her, drawing her closer and feeling the hard points of her nipples and the contrasting softness of her breasts on the skin of his chest. His member was now trapped between them, pressing against her abdomen while they kissed.

He then pulled away slightly and turned his attention to her breasts, gently cupping them with just his fingertips and teasingly brushing a thumb softly over her nipple; Lizzie moaned with pleasure at his touch. He closed his eyes as he traced their outline and stroked their roundness with the back of his fingers and Lizzie arched her head back in encouragement. She seemed to want his mouth on her skin and he willingly obliged, gently pressing his lips to her throat and working his way slowly downwards. Heat intensified between her legs as his tongue softly teased her nipple to be followed by his mouth gently suckling at the hard bud and Lizzie's moans increased correspondingly.

When he eventually looked up again, Lizzie met his eyes hungrily. She ran her fingers through his hair then held his face in her hands as her mouth eagerly sought his again. She was almost overwhelmed by the way he made her feel and couldn't wait any longer – she had to have him now.

She put her lips to his ear and whispered, "I want you inside me." Hotch looked into her eyes again. "Please," she nearly begged.

That was it. Any niggling little worries just flew out of the window. This beautiful, intelligent, sexy woman, with the perfect breasts and wonderful sense of humour – who was perched, naked, on top of him – had just pleaded with him to make love to her.

He put his hands on her bum and lifted her slightly while she guided him into her. He gave a low rumble as her silken wetness encompassed the tip of his cock which swelled to a groan as she slipped down over him, soft but tight around his shaft. Lizzie gasped when he entered her and felt herself stretching to accommodate him, taking a moment to savour the feeling, a widening grin splitting her face and her arms tightening convulsively around him.

His mouth sought hers again and he laid back on the bed, drawing her down with him. They began rocking a slow, deep rhythm, their passion mounting in unison. Hotch could feel his control quickly slipping away in her softness and rolled Lizzie over, slowing his strokes; he didn't want this to end anytime soon.

Lizzie's moans gradually gained in intensity as Hotch steadily increased the pace again and her nails dug half-moons into his shoulders. After a while, his moans joined hers and she felt his arousal reach its peak as his member further enlarged and he thrust hard into her, crying out in ecstasy and sending Lizzie over the edge at the same moment. She grabbed his ass, drawing him in to the hilt as her orgasm mingled with his.

He held onto her until he felt her quivering subside, laying light kisses on her neck and throat, then slowly withdrew and laid down next to her. Both were breathing hard as they looked at each other and Hotch put his arms around Lizzie, drawing her to him. She was enveloped in his warmth, her head resting on his chest; she could hear his heart gradually slowing and she wondered whether she'd been crazy for having held herself back from this for so long.

She cast her mind back to the few dates she'd been on since arriving in America three years previously. Okay, one had been an unmitigated disaster: the man had turned up pretty much three sheets to the wind and it had gone downhill from there. The other two men she had dated had been nice enough and she'd got on well with them, even seeing one of them three times, but she just hadn't felt anything for them – no spark or heat that could grow into anything more – so she hadn't pursued them and certainly hadn't slept with them. She was beginning to wonder if maybe a night of unbridled passion might have been fun but quickly decided that just wasn't her style: she had a couple of friends who did do it and practically evangelised the practice but Lizzie knew she wouldn't truly enjoy it unless she had a connection with the man.

That's exactly what she had with Hotch. They had sparked the first time they met and that little flame had been kept alive all this time, like the pilot light in a gas boiler, with their jokes and smiles. She had thought it was purely platonic on his part, much like their colleagues Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia, and had been happy, despite the not infrequent forays her imagination took her on. But it looked like she might have been wrong about that.

Hotch's hand on her hair and his voice brought Lizzie back to the present. "What are you thinking?" he asked softly.

"Hmm?" she said lazily. "Oh, just realising what I've been missing all this time."

* * *

Hotch paused for a moment, not quite grasping her meaning. He was pretty sure there was a compliment in the 'what I've been missing' which made him happy and a little relieved at the same time. It was the second part of her statement that wasn't quite clear to him though. "What do you mean, 'all this time'?" he asked gently, turning to face her.

Lizzie propped herself on one elbow before replying with a rueful smile, "well, it's been a while… and I kind of forgot how good it could be to have someone other than myself make me come."

Hotch smiled and raised an eyebrow at that image, saying "glad I could be of service" and being rewarded with a sexy grin. Then he paused again. "But–" he stopped himself before asking but Lizzie must have guessed what he'd been about to say.

"Four years," she stated matter-of-factly.

"You haven't been with anyone for four years?" he asked, incredulous but softly, sparing her from ridicule. Hotch was struck by the trust she exhibited in admitting this to him, after the unlikelihood of her statement filtered through.

"Yep. You're my first American," she replied flippantly.

"But… You're gorgeous," he asserted as he absently ran his fingertips down her side. "How is that possible?"

"I haven't exactly had to fend off the slavering hordes," she said with a grin.

"Well the slavering hordes are idiots," Hotch replied, and was rewarded with a slightly abashed look from Lizzie which he found incredibly cute. "I'm serious, Lizzie," Hotch assured with a smile, his hand now in the curve of her waist.

"I have had a couple of dates since I came over here but nothing serious, and I won't hop into bed with just anyone. Believe me, it hasn't been easy at times!" Hotch looked at her enquiringly and, after a pause during which she seemed to weigh her words, she continued with the naughtiest smile he'd seen gracing her features yet. "Okay, put it this way: I've had a vibrator conk out on me from overuse."

Hotch lay on his side facing this goddess and knew that his mouth was hanging open; he wouldn't have been surprised to find himself drooling. "Seriously?" he croaked when his brain finally managed to get through to his vocal chords.

"Yeah but, like I said, I've definitely been missing out if tonight's anything to go by," she replied, looking up at him coyly through her eyelashes, her hand reaching forward to touch his chest. Hotch smiled while his own hand continued its progress down Lizzie's body, drifting over her hip to gently grasp her smooth leg and feeling the toned muscle he had originally been surprised to find in her soft, curvaceous figure. He leaned forward a little, his lips meeting her soft, full ones in a kiss which grew slowly in intensity and led on to other things, after which they both fell into a deep and contented sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Lizzie woke to find herself still in Hotch's arms, lying on top of the covers of her bed, and sunlight streaming through the uncovered windows to warm her skin. She looked at his face, so beautiful in sleep, unmarked by the worry and concentration that were his usual expressions.

After a few minutes she carefully but reluctantly extricated herself from him, slipped into her pyjama bottoms and a cami and, unable to resist it, gazed at him for a few moments. She couldn't quite believe that, after three years of fantasising, she finally had a naked Aaron Hotchner lying in her bed! She tip-toed to the bathroom, not wanting to disturb him, and on the way she glanced at a clock and saw it was 9.30am. Stifling a giggle, Lizzie thought what a good thing it was that today was a Saturday, otherwise the pair of them would have been very late for work and she was sure they wouldn't get away with it, without anyone noticing!

Then it occurred to her that she had no pain in her ankle; she had forgotten all about it last night. _Must be all the endorphins running around my system_, she thought with a grin.

Also, being a Saturday, they could spend the day together. Well, so long as he didn't wake up and realise he'd made a horrible mistake, that is. Lizzie fervently hoped that didn't happen, recalling in detail how he'd made her feel, not only while they were having sex but before that too, when they were just talking. Okay, she admitted, the moment when his mouth had first found her clit was quite probably the single most startlingly triumphant moment of her life and she grinned uncontrollably at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she thought, _I can't believe that my boss went down on me!_

She went into the kitchen and put a pot of coffee on to brew, wondering if she should take him to her garden. Well, it wasn't technically _her_ garden but a place where she volunteered at weekends, a part of a local park that she helped maintain which was meant for the benefit of local schools and groups. She hadn't told him about it last night as it was really the only part of her that she strived to keep separate from her work; somewhere she could go at any time to forget about the cases and the murderers.

Having worked with Hotch for nearly three years, Lizzie had no doubts as to whether she could trust him. Not that she'd needed to have known him for that long as he exuded a sense of noble sincerity which was impossible to miss. All the same, Lizzie decided it was probably too early to show him something that was so personal to her – she wasn't even sure if he would want to be with her again and she didn't want to presume too much.

While waiting for the coffee, Lizzie began tidying the living room, picking up Hotch's shirt and tie from the floor, abandoned the night before, and smiling at the memory of the moment when she had taken it off him and had (finally) had her first look at his toned body. She knew he kept himself fit and had certainly not been disappointed with the view. He had a strong, athletic build and broad shoulders with good definition but wasn't muscle-bound – in fact, he was exactly how she'd pictured him in her head all this time. She laid his clothes carefully on the arm of the sofa, collected the wine glasses and took them back into the kitchen.

* * *

Hotch woke a little later to find that, in his sleep, he had replaced Lizzie's body in his arms with one of her pillows. He inhaled deeply, smelling her delicate scent on the material, and smiled. He sat up and looked around at Lizzie's bedroom: it was a very light room with floor-to-ceiling windows leading out to a balcony which was filled with so many potted plants, it looked like a miniature jungle. The room itself was tastefully decorated, and the furniture was practical and unfussy, just like their owner. There were some prints on the walls: two framed pencil drawings, one of a tiger and the other a polar bear; along with a large photo of an impressive-looking manor house with woods behind and wide lawns in front, leading down to a smooth river. He briefly wondered whether the place had a significance to Lizzie, or if it was simply a picture she liked.

Hotch swung his legs out of bed and, finding his boxers and trousers, he put them on, noticing on the dressing table a photo of Lizzie with whom Hotch assumed was her family. He picked it up and looked at the subjects: a tall, grey-haired man who looked in his sixties or seventies; a woman about the same age and from whom Hotch thought Lizzie must have inherited her petite build; and a younger man, possibly a few years older than Lizzie, even taller than their father, and leaning casually on his sister's shoulder. There were two large dogs in the foreground, one of which was looking at something in the river to their left, the other lying down and panting. Hotch smiled at this portrait of a happy family and carefully replaced it on the table.

He then wondered where she was so he made his way to the living room to locate his shirt first of all. A minute later he found Lizzie in the kitchen, sitting at the table and looking down at her hands, a strange expression on her face that he'd never seen before.

He cleared his throat and she jumped, shocked out of her reverie. "God, you scared me!" she laughed.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay? You looked like…" he feared to say that she looked like she'd regretted what they'd done. Okay, now that it was morning and he didn't have alcohol fuzzing his brain, he knew that life had suddenly got a whole lot more complicated and that everything would be different at work. Not just between the two of them but with the rest of the team and his own boss, Section Chief Erin Strauss, who grudgingly respected him for what he did but couldn't understand his dedication to the BAU and therefore could never fully understand him. Lizzie, on the other hand, had grasped its importance to him right from the start and, as his PA, had actively supported this commitment. He wondered briefly if that would change now and, if it did, how he would deal with the loss of that support.

"No I'm fine, I was miles away," she said with a smile. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah, thanks," Hotch replied, smiling nervously.

Lizzie didn't detect Hotch's apprehension, being lost in her own. Now that he was awake and in the same room, she knew that this would be the moment when he either said they'd made a horrible mistake or… Lizzie didn't dare let her mind form the thought in case she jinxed it. So, she went through the motions to delay the inevitable, privately scorning her own cowardice. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Love some, thanks."

She poured him a coffee the way she knew he liked it and handed it to him. Their eyes met and held. There was a tenderness in his expression that was impossible to miss and she smiled, receiving one of his own dazzling ones in return. Before she knew it, Lizzie found herself laughing, the dam of her fear broken and relief flooding through her. He looked at her askance and she suddenly worried that she had offended him.

"I'm sorry, Hotch," she said when the giggles had subsided. "I was laughing at myself – for being a complete scaredy-cat!"

"That's hard to imagine," he said, surprised. "What were you afraid of?"

Lizzie paused. "To be honest, I don't really know… But I was avoiding the pertinent subject just now which is completely unlike me."

Hotch smiled playfully and Lizzie was hard-pressed to restrain herself. She allowed her gaze to linger on his half-buttoned and untucked shirt, or rather on his chest which was exposed by it. It was incredibly sexy to see him so casual when normally his suit, tie and everything were immaculate. "That's true," he said indulgently. He paused. "I had an amazing time last night, Lizzie."

"So did I," she replied warmly, still gazing hungrily at him.

"Er – do you mind if I use your shower?" he asked after a moment, apparently conscious of her appraisal.

"No, of course not."

While Hotch was in the bathroom, Lizzie finished tidying up and went to choose what to wear that day. She still wasn't sure what they would be doing, or even if he'd stay, but decided on a pair of jeans and, thinking again of his mouth exploring her body, one of her favourite tops which showed off her chest without being too revealing.

She then heard Hotch's phone ringing from the kitchen; he was still showering so Lizzie went to see who it was. Her heart sank when she saw that it was JJ: there was only one reason she would be calling on a weekend and that would be that they had another case which meant that he'd have to leave. Three cases in quick succession, Lizzie worried, her instinct to protect Hotch rising. They usually had more time than this between them but it seemed that her luck wasn't going to hold out this time.

When Hotch returned, Lizzie told him that JJ had rung and, to her secret pleasure, he looked genuinely disappointed. He called her back nonetheless and proved Lizzie right when he hung up and said, "I'm gonna have to go, Lizzie. We've been asked up to Seattle to give a profile on an abduction case." He paused then said, "I'm really sorry, I'll make it up to you when I get back."

"It's okay, Hotch, I know you have to go. I can't say I'm not disappointed," she smiled to reassure him, "but you don't have to make anything up to me. Just be careful, okay?"

He gently put one hand under her chin, raised her face to his and kissed her sensuously. "Thank you," he breathed huskily when they broke apart. "I'll call you."

He finished his coffee and was gone.

* * *

True to his word, Hotch called Lizzie that evening. He sounded tired and worried which wasn't surprising in abduction cases when every hour the victim was missing lessened the likelihood of finding them alive.

"Hi, how's the case going?"

"Well, we've got four abductions, three bodies and the fourth victim has been missing for thirty-two hours. Reid and Garcia are looking at victimology to try and find a connection, but so far there doesn't seem to be anything. Morgan and Rossi are still out at the site where the last body was found and JJ's trying to fend off the press. So, pretty standard really," he finished resignedly.

"Are you okay?" Lizzie asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," he said a little too brightly.

"Hotch, this is me, remember?" she said gently. "I see every case through your eyes; you don't have to spare me."

"I know Lizzie, I'm sorry. Truth is, we haven't made any real headway yet and I just… needed to hear a friendly voice," he replied. Lizzie smiled at this but was still anxious. He paused, as if steeling himself. "Listen, can I see you when I get back? Only we should really talk about… last night."

"Of course! You don't regret it though, do you?" Lizzie asked nervously, immediately wishing she hadn't. She hadn't meant it to sound as though she was going to go all bunny-boiler on him if he didn't want to be with her again. "Jeez! Sorry Hotch, that was… I didn't mean… Look, if last night was just last night, it's fine–"

"That bad was it?" Hotch interrupted jokingly.

"Now you _know_ that is not what I meant," Lizzie scolded.

"I don't regret it, Lizzie" Hotch went back to her original question. "but I don't want to ignore it either and–" he was interrupted by someone entering the room he was in, then Lizzie could hear Reid's excited voice in the background.

"Hotch, Morgan and Rossi are back and I think we've got something…"

"Okay, I'll be there in a minute. I gotta go," he said to Lizzie. "I'll call you when I get back."

"Okay, please be careful." Hotch paused at this, wondering.

"You said that to me this morning. Are _you_ okay?"

"Sorry, I don't know what it is, I've just got a funny feeling that I can't shake."

"I'll be fine, I've got the team here with me and I won't take any unnecessary risks," he tried to reassure her, knowing that Lizzie, of all people, was not normally prone to 'funny feelings'. "I'll speak to you soon. 'Bye Lizzie."

"'Bye Hotch."

* * *

Usually, Lizzie wasn't involved in the cases until they were over; that's when her work really began. This time, though, she couldn't keep away and found herself in Penelope Garcia's office on Monday afternoon for the fourth time that day. She had spent Saturday and Sunday at the park with a large group of children, knowing that that was the only thing that would keep her sane – after all, looking after thirty eight-year-olds didn't exactly leave one time to think about anything else. In the office, however, she was surrounded by it all.

"Not that I don't enjoy your visits, Lizzie, but is everything okay?" asked Garcia.

"I don't know. I just can't concentrate today."

"It's difficult, isn't it? Being left behind while our boys and girls are out there, having all the fun," Garcia said comfortingly.

"Yeah," replied Lizzie dully, absently picking up one of Garcia's many figurines – a small pink dragon.

"Have you been having nightmares?" Garcia must have seen the surprise on Lizzie's face as she said: "we all get them, including those of us who aren't in the thick of it." Lizzie still didn't respond. "Look. You know what's out there. Just because you only find out about it after the fact, doesn't make that knowledge irrelevant. You care about Hotch and the team so of course you're going to be worried, and that preys on your mind when you're asleep. Ergo nightmares." Lizzie was amazed that Garcia had hit the nail right on the head. She had always been concerned about them when the team were away, it was just that this time it was even more intense – she rationalised it down to her growing feelings for Hotch, but of course she couldn't tell anyone about that, she just had to wait until he returned and hope he felt the same. And that he was safe. That was the main thing after all – his health and happiness had always been a heartfelt wish of hers and she knew that would never change, even if she couldn't have him again.

"You should be a profiler, Garcia," Lizzie tried to joke.

"No thank you Mrs!" exclaimed Garcia. "Give me a Government database to hack into and 6,200 lines of code to decipher any day!" Lizzie laughed. She was extremely fond of Garcia; it was hard not to like her – she was cheerful and funny, and would do anything for her friends.

"Well, seeing as I'm here, can I be of any use?" Lizzie decided she had to keep herself occupied and, with any luck, she might be of some small help too.

* * *

It had gone 9 o'clock and Lizzie was still in Garcia's office, waiting for news of the team. They'd got a lead and were out following it up but the two women hadn't heard from anyone for nearly two hours.

"God! What on Earth is happening?" Lizzie was almost beside herself with frustration.

"Believe it or not, my little English rose, this is usually good news." Lizzie looked at Garcia sceptically. "It's true. There's always a long silence when they catch the guy and bring him into custody. Plus we hope that they've found the victim alive. There's a lot of stuff that has to be wrapped up. Ah, there you go," said Garcia as her phone rang. "Speak and be heard, oh mortal," she intoned into her headset.

"Hey baby girl," came Derek Morgan's tired voice on the speakerphone.

"Did you get him?" asked Garcia.

"Yeah, we got him, thanks to you and Reid."

"Well, you know, when you put two geniuses together, great things happen," Garcia quipped with a wink at Lizzie. "Is everyone alright?"

Morgan paused. "Hotch was shot."

"Oh my god!" Lizzie couldn't help exclaiming and grabbing the back of Garcia's chair for support.

"That you, Liz?" asked Morgan in surprise.

"Yes. What about Hotch?" Lizzie's eyes were boring into the phone as if she could make Morgan see her desperate need to know.

"He's gonna be okay. It was just his shoulder but he's at the hospital now getting patched up. You should see the other guy," he tried to lighten the news but it had little effect on Lizzie. The relief she felt was overshadowed by her worry – after all, he was still hurt and it could have been a lot worse. "I gotta go, ladies, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you tomorrow sugar," Garcia replied and hung up. "Right," she rounded on Lizzie. "Let's pack this lot up and grab a drink." Lizzie was about to protest. "You realise I won't take no for an answer, don't you?"

* * *

Lizzie and Garcia sat down at a quiet table with their drinks and immediately Lizzie was assailed.

"Okay, what's going on with you?" demanded Garcia.

"What do you mean?"

"Look, sweetie, three years you've worked at the BAU and not once have you hung back to check the scores at the end of the game. I'm not saying you didn't care before but it's just not part of your job. I know it's just the way you've dealt with things. Now, all of a sudden, you spend virtually the entire day in my office, looking like you were on the verge of a panic attack the whole time, and nearly faint when Derek tells us that Hotch was shot. Something's changed with you."

"I'm sorry Garcia, did I get in your way?" Lizzie tried to deflect Garcia's questioning, knowing full well that her friend would see through such a transparent ruse.

"Don't try and avoid the question! You know I didn't mean that. And I know it's not just about the nightmares." Lizzie could see Garcia's quick mind working away at the problem and knew she must do all she could to prevent her finding out.

"It's nothing, really, Garcia, I just had a particularly bad one last night. I'm just glad it's all over and they're on their way home."

"Hmm," Garcia was not convinced but evidently was going to allow the subject to drop, for now at least, for which Lizzie was grateful. She'd been through the emotional mill today and didn't think she could stand up to much of the famous Garcia interrogation.

They chatted about other things for a while but, when Lizzie returned from the bathroom, Garcia was holding Lizzie's phone and looking suspiciously at her.

"Why would Hotch be calling you at this time of night?" came the challenge, before Lizzie had even sat down.

"What?"

"Hotch just called your cell phone, see?" she passed Lizzie the handset. "He knows you don't work this late, so tell me: why is he calling you?" Garcia wasn't being nasty, it was just her insatiable curiosity, but Lizzie suddenly wished she'd gone straight home now.

"Oh, I just spoke to him this morning about a lecture he's giving at the GWU on Thursday and he said he'd give me a bell when he knew he was coming back. I am his personal assistant remember!" she said with a smile. "I'd better call him back. Excuse me." Lizzie made a quick getaway and stood outside the bar's front door to speak to him.

"Hotchner," came the voice that made Lizzie's legs turn into marshmallow, despite her worry.

"Hi, it's me."

"Hey Lizzie." Okay, not marshmallow – water.

"Sorry I didn't answer my phone a minute ago. How's your shoulder?"

"I take it Morgan told you then?"

"Yes. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, really. It hurts a bit but they've got me on painkillers and I can't move my arm too well, but I'm fine. It's not as if I've never been shot before."

"Oh well that's a comfort!" said Lizzie sarcastically, wondering how she could manage humour at all right now.

"Okay, sorry, maybe that wasn't exactly the right thing to say." Lizzie could hear the smile in his voice. "Honestly, I'm okay. We got the unsub and we found the victim alive. If the payoff is just a few days of painkillers and not being able to write properly, I don't mind."

Lizzie was fearful that she'd turn into a gibbering, drooling wreck if he continued in that vein; she'd always had a thing about heroes and knew she was talking to the real thing here. "Ah, now _that_ was most definitely the right thing to say," she replied playfully.

"Jeez," he said, "that was laying it on a little thick, wasn't it. I'm sorry honey, I didn't mean–"

"I didn't think for a moment that you did," Lizzie admonished gently, "I know you better than that," she finished smiling.

"So, I take it Garcia dragged you out for a drink then?" he asked after a pause, steering the conversation away from himself. Lizzie imagined that Morgan must have mentioned her having stayed late and evidently he could hear the noise of the bar in the background.

"Yes, but I'm beginning to wish I hadn't come."

"Why's that?"

"She's suspicious. I was in the bathroom when you phoned and she started quizzing me as to why you'd be calling this late. I tried to tell her it wasn't unheard-of but I don't think she entirely bought it. Anyone else and I wouldn't be worried but you know what she's like!"

Hotch gave a short laugh and said, "yes, I know what she's like. Look, I've been thinking about it and it's not the end of the world if the others find out is it? Even if we never got together again it would eventually come out somehow or another, no matter how much I might scowl at them!" Lizzie laughed at that thought – Hotch's scowl, while intimidating to most, was just another thing that sent her mind into paroxysms of lust. "Yeah, it'd be nice if we could work out what we both want without everyone else knowing our business but you can't hide this sort of thing from a pack of wolv– sorry, profilers – forever."

"Yes," Lizzie agreed, amused at his not-quite-accidental slip of the tongue. "But I'll do my best to fend her off, at least for a while" she promised.

"Okay. Listen honey, I gotta go, but I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

"Alright. See you tomorrow. 'Bye."

Lizzie hung up and took a moment to marvel at how relaxed he was about the whole situation. Also, was it her imagination or did it sound like he didn't want the other night to be just a one night stand? Oh, and the small detail that he'd called her 'honey'. Twice. A broad grin spread across Lizzie's face as she ambled back into the bar and approached her table. She forced a businesslike expression onto her face as Garcia looked up at her but it was soon clear that her friend wasn't buying it.

"You're glowing!" she accused. After a brief pause, she said, "so, what could handsome and debonair Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner possibly have said to his beautiful transatlantic personal assistant to make her go from rabbit in the headlights to Cinderella on her wedding day in, hmm…" she looked at her watch "four minutes?"

"What do you mean? I'm not glowing!" Lizzie tried to scoff.

"Oh yes you are, sweetie, and now you're blushing."

"No I'm not!" She couldn't think of a single argument that would convince Garcia of her innocence, mainly because she knew she was guilty and that 'honey' was still making her heart flutter.

"It's you and Hotch, isn't it?" Garcia asked knowingly with a grin.

"What about me and Hotch?" Lizzie still tried desperately to play the innocent, panicking in light of her promise to him a few moments ago; she couldn't believe she was failing so miserably.

"You got together, didn't you?" It was no good, despite her fears, Lizzie just couldn't keep from smiling anymore in the face of Garcia's rising glee. "It's true isn't it? Oh sweetie it's so exciting!" Garcia grabbed Lizzie's arm. "You're so cute together! I've always thought you'd make a great couple. How long have you been keeping this from your Auntie Penelope? Are you desperately in love? Oh think of it," she paused dramatically, looking into some imaginary distance. "Mrs Elizabeth Hotchner," she breathed.

"Okay, stop right there, 'Auntie Penelope'. Firstly, you can stop that talk about 'Elizabeth Hotchner' right now, that's not just jumping the gun, it's jumping the entire membership of the NRA. Secondly, you're not to mention this to a soul." Garcia tried to protest but Lizzie knew how to play this one, at least. "Please Garcia, we haven't even been on a date yet; what chance do you think we'd have with a bunch of profilers scrutinising our every move?"

Garcia looked confused for a moment. "You haven't been on a–" she gasped and Lizzie thought _shit, I shouldn't have said that!_ "A night of unbridled passion! Unable to deny your animal attraction any longer…" Garcia was clutching her hands to her chest and Lizzie by now was blushing furiously, a Cheshire Cat grin fighting for dominance over her frown; she felt like a sixteen year old schoolgirl again. "And you expect me not to tell anyone?" She looked suddenly deflated. "Not even my chocolate Adonis?"

"Yes. I do, Penelope." Lizzie hoped the use of her friend's given name would impress upon her the importance of what she wanted to say. "Please don't tell them, _especially_ Morgan: he'd be 'wink-wink, nudge-nudge-ing' me every five minutes. You know him better than anyone – do you honestly think he'd just ignore it?"

"No, I suppose he wouldn't," replied Garcia.

"And Rossi would start badgering Hotch," Lizzie continued relentlessly. "He'd probably leave me alone but, being an old dog himself, he wouldn't be able to sit quietly and let something like this pass by unremarked. If not for me, then please don't tell them for Hotch's sake: you know how private he is about his personal life. If we have to deal with the pressure of all you lot knowing about it and analysing us all the time…"

"Okay okay," said Garcia reluctantly. "Just so long as, when they do eventually find out, you tell them you _made_ me keep quiet, otherwise they'll never forgive me."

Lizzie smiled indulgently at her friend's disappointment. "I promise."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hope everyone had a fantastic Christmas and New Year!!

* * *

Next morning, Lizzie dressed carefully for work. She wanted to look sexy and alluring without giving away the fact that she was trying to look sexy and alluring; she knew he'd see right through that. In the end, she plumped for a pair of trousers that sat on her hips and a tight v-neck jumper that revealed a respectable amount of cleavage – it was simple but still showed off her figure nicely. She put her long hair up and surveyed herself in the mirror. Butterflies were beginning to form in her stomach already and she told herself to calm down and stop acting like a girl half her age – after all, she had to prove that she could be mature about everything and still do her job properly, otherwise he might think it had all been a mistake after all.

Hotch and the rest of the team all arrived between 10.30 and 11am, their 'plane having only touched down at 3 o'clock that morning. When Lizzie looked up from her work to see Hotch standing in the doorway between her office and his own, watching her, her belly constricted with desire: he was looking gorgeous in his steel-grey suit – she loved him in that suit – and his hair wasn't as neat as usual which gave him a slightly dishevelled look that Lizzie found mouth-wateringly attractive. She took in the arm in a sling, noting that it was his left – his favoured – arm, but almost immediately was distracted by the sight of three small grazes on one side of his face, guiltily thinking that the wounded soldier look was extremely sexy on him. He smiled as she stood up and walked around her desk towards him.

"I didn't want to disturb you," he greeted.

"Morning," Lizzie smiled. "How is it?" she asked, indicating his shoulder.

"Oh it's okay. The bullet went straight through and didn't hit any bones which was lucky. I have to take one of these," he took a bottle of pills out of his jacket pocket, "every two hours and they want me to get it checked out in a few days to see how it's healing. I'm afraid I'm gonna need your help quite a bit for a while 'coz I can barely hold a pen…"

"Of course," Lizzie said with a smile, thinking _it will be my pleasure!_ "Whatever you need me to do."

"Thanks Lizzie."

She then noticed he was absently fiddling with the sling as if it was uncomfortable and, grateful for something to do (rather than just ogle him), softly she said: "come here," and tried to straighten it out. She found it was a little difficult for her though as he was so much taller so she steered him over to her desk and gently pushed him down so he was sitting on it; she then set to work rearranging the dressing, and gently chided him.

"No unnecessary risks, eh?" she asked with a half-smile.

He shrugged his good shoulder and said, "this was a necessary one." Lizzie let the matter drop – she didn't want to nag him or fuss over it. After all, she knew his job could be dangerous at times, and that was all part of the hero thing anyway.

His long legs were parted so she could stand between them, directly in front of him, and she could smell the delicious scent of his aftershave; he was watching intently the concentration on her face as she carefully adjusted the sling. She tried to keep her breathing normal and willed herself not to blush when she leaned forward to straighten up the part of the sling going around his neck, half-guiltily and half-mischievously tempting him with a view of her cleavage.

"There. Is that better?" she asked, leaning back to survey her work, then meeting his gaze.

"Much. Thanks Lizzie."

Lizzie found herself rooted to the spot, unwilling to relinquish her proximity to him, knowing that she really should do and indeed, she'd have to if she didn't do something soon but unable to form any thoughts in her mind. She just stood there looking into his eyes, which seemed to be made of liquid, and feeling the warmth of his body so close to hers. When he slid his free hand gently over her bum and drew her closer, Lizzie gave up on her vain attempt to stem her desire for this man. She put one hand on his shoulder, the other on the nape of his neck and pressed her lips to his.

Arousal instantly rose within her as their tongues met and his hand glided upwards under her jumper, languidly roaming over her back and side and slipping a little under the waistband of her trousers. Their mouths parted for a moment and Lizzie managed to whisper, "god you're so sexy!" He grinned back at her and kissed her again, more urgently this time, his one hand working its way around to Lizzie's breast. She felt the pressure of his own passion rising against her thigh and groaned, reluctantly pulling away from the kiss.

"I would give anything," she breathed, "for you to take me right now, over this desk." He moaned with desire whilst knowing that there was a 'but' about to follow. "But we can't – not here."

Hotch knew that she was right and silently reproached himself: he never normally acted this way, losing his control so easily. He kissed her once more, lingeringly, then stood and wrapped his arm around her, kissing her hair.

"You're right. I'm sorry Lizzie."

"Don't be…" She was still a little breathless from the kiss. "At least now I won't spend the entire day analysing and counter-analysing your every move to see if you like me or not!"

"I like you, Lizzie," he said fervently.

Lizzie gave him a cheeky grin and said, with a glance at his crotch, "Yes, I gathered that! I like you too."

Hotch bent to kiss her again, smiling at her use of humour to avert any awkwardness and at her confirmation of her feelings for him. "Okay," he said, gathering himself together, "give me five minutes, I'll go get my files and I'll have to dictate while you type."

They spent nearly the whole day together, both finding reasons to stay in each other's company. It also had the added benefit that Lizzie was able to avoid Garcia until about 4 o'clock, when Section Chief Strauss asked to see Hotch and grilled him about his injury. She was a middle-aged, severe-looking woman of average build and height, who had started her career in the '80s and still had an excessively feminist air about her – as if any questioning of her opinions, orders or authority had to be because she was a woman. There was no denying she was an extremely strong character but she and Hotch had never really got along – they both grudgingly admitted to the other's talents but had only reached a shaky accord at best – and that with some difficulty over the years.

"You're lucky you have your PA to help you… what's her name?" she asked, disapprovingly.

"Lizzie. Lizzie Gardner. Yes, I'm aware of how lucky I am to have her."

"Otherwise I might have put you on leave until your shoulder heals, and I know how much you'd hate that." Was that a hint of gloating? Hotch maintained a neutral expression as Strauss continued. "As it is, I'm taking you out of the field for at least two weeks." She rose from her chair, "well, just make sure she doesn't get behind with her own work," and swept out of the office.

"She won't," came Hotch's reply to the closing door. _Two weeks out of the field_, he thought. Normally he would have fought tooth and nail against that proclamation and he knew he really should do but couldn't help thinking it would actually be rather nice.

* * *

Meanwhile, Lizzie went to the kitchen to get herself and Hotch a drink. As she approached, she saw Garcia bustling around making her own coffee. Lizzie took a deep breath and approached her, trying to be nonchalant, but as soon as Garcia spotted that they were alone Lizzie knew she was in for another interrogation.

"So, my little dark horse, you've been locked away in that office of yours all day with the boss," she prodded in a conspiratorial undertone. "What _have_ you been getting up to?"

"Working," replied Lizzie, mildly amused. She started pouring the drinks but at Garcia's look of scepticism, she laughed and said, "honestly, we have been working! Need I remind you that he was shot in the shoulder and can barely move his arm, let alone hold a pen? _And_ we've had two cases to report on, so I've been helping him."

"A likely story," Garcia scoffed. "You're telling me that you've been closeted up all day with him and not even copped a feel?"

Lizzie was taking a sip of tea at that moment and nearly choked on it. She knew she would have to give Garcia something to shut her up so she admitted, "we kissed," and instantly regretted it as Morgan came into the room.

"Who've you kissed, Liz?"

"No-one," replied Lizzie and Garcia in unison, so unconvincingly that Lizzie had to elaborate. "No-one you know anyway," hoping against hope that that would stay his curiosity, at least for now. She picked up Hotch's coffee, gave Garcia a look as if to say _one word…_ and retreated from the kitchen, straining her ears to hear Morgan turn on Garcia.

"What's all this about then?" he asked her.

"Oh I don't know who it is, some old friend of hers, that's all." Lizzie didn't hear any more but smiled to herself as she returned to her office.

When she got there, Hotch was sitting in her chair, reading what they'd done off her computer screen. He looked up as she entered the room and Lizzie felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight of him and the anticipation of losing herself in him again that evening.

Hotch rose and closed the door for her while Lizzie put their drinks on her desk, saying "erm… I'm afraid that Morgan's on the scent now." She had told him earlier about Garcia guessing the truth the previous evening and he hadn't appeared too worried about it which had been a great relief to Lizzie, if a little surprising.

"Really?"

"Yeah, Garcia cornered me and wanted to know what we were doing, shut in here all day. Seemed to think we were up to no good," Lizzie added, amusedly. "She didn't believe me when I told her we'd just been working so I stupidly admitted that we'd had one kiss and Morgan came along and overheard me. I'm sorry Hotch, I don't seem to be doing a very good job at keeping a secret. Mind you, it's lucky he doesn't know _who_ I've been kissing or it'd be all over the entire BAU by now."

"Why don't we just tell them?" he asked, drawing nearer and brushing a strand of hair from her eyes.

"Are you serious?" she asked incredulously.

"Why not?" he countered, his hands around her waist now.

"We talked about this the other night, Hotch. You've always kept your personal life to yourself which, admittedly, has never stopped any speculation but they've never really known what you do or who you're with when you're not here. You like it that way."

"Yes but that's not really fair on you, is it?"

"Oh, don't you worry about me," she replied firmly.

"You do realise that Morgan isn't going to let you have a moment's peace until you've spilled the beans about your 'mystery man', don't you?"

"Mmm," replied Lizzie, her hand snaking around to feel his firm butt. "I quite like the idea of having a mystery man though," she smiled. "Makes things sort of… exciting, doesn't it? Anyway, I can handle Morgan."

Hotch raised an eyebrow at this last. "Hmm, not sure I approve of that," he purred and Lizzie playfully smacked him for the insinuation. "If anyone gets to be handled by you, I'd like it to be me." His hand was in the small of Lizzie's back and he bent down to nuzzle her neck.

"My absolute pleasure," she said, her other hand reaching under his suit jacket, wishing he didn't have this darned shirt on.

He pulled away slightly from their embrace, smiling but not quite believing he was abandoning his restraint quite so easily. "Weren't we supposed to be trying to stay professional while we're at the office?"

"We are trying," retorted Lizzie, gently pulling his head back down to her neck. "Just because we're failing doesn't mean we aren't trying!" Hotch laughed. "Anyway, it's nearly time to go home so I'm just getting myself warmed up."

"Okay, but we really should get this finished before we go," he said, indicating their work.

Lizzie groaned, "oh why did I have to go and fall for a workaholic?"

It took them about an hour to finish the second report and submit it to Strauss. When that had been done, Lizzie said smiling, "right, I'm taking you home now, before you think up anything else to do here." She took his hand and pulled him out of his chair, handed him his briefcase and collected her own things.

"Okay, but I'm making you dinner," Hotch replied.

"What? With one hand?"

"You'd be amazed what I can do with one hand," he said with a rakish smile.

"Mmm, can't wait to find out!"

* * *

They arrived at Hotch's apartment and had barely closed the front door when he seized her. Submitting to him and her pent-up feelings, Lizzie kissed him hard with a passion that matched his own. They awkwardly stumbled into his living room – the first door they came to – and Hotch sat on the deep sofa, pulling Lizzie down on top of him. She sat astride him, trying not to hurt him yet not wanting to hold back, and relished the feel of his lips on hers. Her hands strayed down to his chest and he broke their contact to gingerly remove his arm from its restraint and Lizzie helped him take off his jacket. He rested his left hand on her thigh and with his right, tugged at her jumper to pull it over her head. She pulled at his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, happy to finally be able to touch his body. He leaned forward to help her remove it and saw the pained expression in her eyes when she took in the bruising around his left shoulder which extended beyond the edges of the strapping, which itself encased the whole of his shoulder and part of his upper arm and chest. She had known it would be distressing to see his wounds but now she was confronted with them, she feared making it somehow worse.

"Honey," he whispered, "it looks a lot worse than it feels." Not entirely convinced, Lizzie was reluctant to continue, despite her almost overwhelming need to feel his body against hers. Understanding her hesitation, he assured her: "honestly, it's not as bad as you think. It's not gonna stop me from making love to you."

_Making love to you_, Lizzie thought with a smile, _not having sex, not fucking… Okay it might not mean anything but then again… _"Okay… We'll just have to be a little inventive then," she purred.

They made love lingeringly right there on the sofa, savouring the feeling of intimacy that Hotch's injury necessitated. Some time later, when they were both satiated, they lay together breathing heavily, Lizzie being careful not to put any pressure on his left side. Hotch felt himself drifting into a contented slumber while Lizzie lazily stroked his chest and stomach, smoothing the strip of soft hair that led from his navel down to his groin.

He kissed the top of her head, smelling her soft hair, and asked "are you hungry?" Lizzie murmured her assent but both were reluctant to leave the comfort of their embrace. Hotch was captivated by the feel of Lizzie's lithe body pressed against his own, her soft skin warming him to the core.

Lizzie's delicate fingers traced a scar low on his left side, just inside his hip bone. It was about an inch across and the skin was stretched taught around it. "How did you get this?" Lizzie asked gently.

"That? That's where I was shot before. Hell of a lot worse than this one," he replied dismissively, indicating his shoulder.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it lodged inside and they had to dig it out. Lost a lot of blood. Mind you, I was lucky."

"Lucky?" Lizzie asked, incredulously.

"Well it just missed the artery. They had trouble removing it because it was so close." Lizzie removed her hand from the wound as if afraid to touch it in case she would somehow open it up again. Hotch smiled and said softly, "it's okay, you know; it's healed." He pressed her hand back down onto it. "It was eleven years ago."

"How did it happen?" Lizzie raised herself onto one elbow to look at him. "Sorry, you don't have to tell me," she said quickly.

"No, it's okay. It was when I was in SWAT, before I joined the BAU. It was a bit of a shock after spending nearly ten years in the comfortable surroundings of the DA's office," he smiled ruefully and continued after a pause. "We were in Florida helping the DEA bring in a drug ring. We'd discovered where they were holing up, got them surrounded but something happened – turned out they were tipped off – and it turned into a gun fight. I don't really remember much about it to be honest. It sounds clichéd but it all happened so fast. Two of them escaped, three were wounded, another three killed; we lost one of the DEA agents, a cop lost an ear and I got this." He fell silent.

Lizzie studied his face; he was looking at the ceiling, his brow lowered in reflection, shadowing his eyes. She realised he was probably reliving those moments, perhaps thinking about the DEA agent who had been killed, and wondered if he had known the man well. It was a paradox, she knew, but the very fact that this was quite probably the bravest man she had ever known meant that she felt an almost overwhelming need to protect him. She touched his face and his eyes flicked back to the present and met her own. She leaned over to kiss him tenderly then pulled back to meet his gaze again, losing herself once again in those bottomless eyes. He smiled and said, "what are you thinking?"

"Hmm? Oh, just how incredible you are," Lizzie replied returning his smile.

Hotch looked at her sceptically. "What? For getting shot?"

"No, for being an actual, real-life, genuine hero." He scoffed modestly but Lizzie continued in frank honesty. "For having a brilliant mind and being the kind of boss who inspires all of us who work for you." She went on relentlessly. "For being the kind of person who will do anything for the people you care about." He began to look a little embarrassed but Lizzie was already going in a new direction. "For being _completely_ stunning, with a _gorgeous_ body," her hand strayed back down to his chest as she glanced down at his naked body lying beside her, one knee bent and resting against the back of the sofa, and gave a small whimper whilst biting her bottom lip, then looked back at his face with a suggestive smile. "And for having the most magnificent cock known to womankind." She had shocked him into laughter but retained a look of transparent sincerity, saying, "it's true" in mock innocence. He laughed again and pulled her to him, kissing her hungrily, his hand pressing warm on her back.

Lizzie reached down between his legs, taking his member in her hand and enjoying the groan of pleasure this generated from him. She massaged him in firm, even strokes and he was soon swollen and hard, ready to take her. He sat up smoothly, turned himself around to kneel on the floor and parted Lizzie's legs before gliding into her.

This time neither of them could have held back even if they'd wanted to and both quickly responded to a hard, deep rhythm. Lizzie breathlessly drank in the movement of the muscles in his chest and abdomen, his skin soon shining with sweat.

Hotch draped Lizzie's left leg over his good shoulder and he thrust powerfully into her, making her breath come out in gasps. As their pleasure mounted, he leaned forward, bracing himself with this right hand on the back of the sofa, his left resting on her hip, and they cried out almost in unison, their ecstasy peaking for the second time that evening.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading and please, please, please review – I'm beginning to feel neglected! Seriously, even if you hate it, I'd still like to hear, especially if you can point me in the right direction. Thanks, Bambi


	6. Chapter 6

A/N Sorry it's been a while since my last update. I was having trouble with the later part of this chapter so I decided to cut it in half and post what I have now, then try to sort out the mess that is the next bit! Hope you enjoy and, if you do (or if you don't!), please review!!

* * *

On their way into work the next morning, they stopped off at Lizzie's apartment for a change of clothes. At about 10 o'clock, JJ called Hotch into the conference room for another consultation and he asked Lizzie to join them.

"Could you take these in for me?" he asked, handing her a couple of files. "I have to make a call. Tell the team I'll be there in a minute."

"Sure," replied Lizzie, taking the files.

Lizzie entered the conference room where Morgan, Prentiss and Reid were already waiting and sat down. Morgan was regaling the others with a blow-by-blow account of a fight he'd seen on TV but soon turned on Lizzie.

"So, when are you going to tell us who it is then, Liz?" he asked.

"Hmm? Who what is?" Lizzie pretended to be preoccupied with the files Hotch had asked her to take.

"This guy you've been smooching. We want names, we want dates, we want places," he exclaimed, counting his three demands off on his fingers.

"Why? Are you jealous?" she asked.

Morgan raised his eyebrows, smiled and said, "insanely."

"Well in that case, I'm even less likely to tell you then, aren't I?"

"Oh yeah, why's that then?"

"Well, because I'm afraid you might try and hurt him in a rit of fealous jage," replied Lizzie dramatically, then realising that the Peter Sellers quote was probably lost on them but not bothering to offer any enlightenment: she was enjoying this far too much; it was easier than she'd thought.

Morgan laughed. "Liz, as long as you're happy, and he doesn't do anything to hurt you, I'll try to control myself."

Now it was Lizzie's turn to laugh; the very thought that Hotch could ever hurt her was just ridiculous. "Oh don't you worry on that score, Derek. Believe me, if you knew who it was, you wouldn't even consider that a possibility."

"Ah, so it's someone we know then?" Reid picked up on Lizzie's slip of the tongue.

Lizzie snorted in mock derision. "Look, do you _honestly_ think I'm going to tell you?" she said, turning to the young man with a smirk.

"Well there's only really one reason why you wouldn't, isn't there?" Emily joined in.

"Not necessarily," replied Lizzie nonchalantly. "Actually, I'm having rather a lot of fun! You all thought I led a very boring, staid existence, didn't you?" she asked rhetorically, still smirking. "It's quite nice being able to prove you guys wrong once in a while."

"Oh come on, Liz. Garcia wouldn't tell me anything–" Morgan whined.

"What?" exclaimed Reid, "Garcia knows?"

"Not everything," Lizzie quickly interjected. "She knows about the same as you do, which isn't very much…" She realised after a second who she was talking to. "Er… Okay _you_ know pretty much everything there is to know," she said affectionately to the young doctor, prompting a smirk from Morgan. "Apart from this. And it's going to stay that way," she finished stubbornly, glaring at the three of them in turn.

At that moment Hotch opened the door, letting JJ and Rossi in before him, while Morgan persisted, still grinning. "I _am_ going to find out, you know that don't you?"

"Find out what?" asked Rossi.

"Lizzie's mystery man," replied Reid. Lizzie was convinced she detected an almost imperceptible smile on Hotch's lips as he walked around the table towards her and was hard pressed not to break out into a grin herself, not quite believing that Reid had just used the exact phrase that Hotch had done the previous day. "We're trying to get her to spill the beans."

"Yeah but she's playing hard-ball," said Emily.

"I'm not gonna give up, Liz," Morgan interjected. "So you may as well save yourself a lot of trouble and just tell us now."

"If she doesn't want to tell you, she doesn't have to," said Hotch in a businesslike tone, taking the files that Lizzie handed to him, apparently uninterested in the subject of conversation.

Lizzie could have kissed him if that wouldn't have immediately given the whole game away. "Thank you," she said to him, with a smug look in Morgan's direction.

Rossi looked appraisingly at Hotch and after a pause, he said "you've told _him_, haven't you?" talking to Lizzie and indicating Hotch.

Morgan, Prentiss and Reid all looked up sharply at Lizzie, who scoffed. "Er... you do know he's my boss and not my BFF, don't you?" she said, amused. "No offence, Hotch," she added.

"None taken," he replied. "Now, can we get on, people?"

Rossi continued to regard the pair of them with suspicion and, ignoring Hotch, said, "He knows _something_."

"Okay, you got me," said Hotch in mock impatience, raising his hands in surrender. "It's me." All eyes were now on Hotch, goggling in amazement. "Lizzie and I are having a secret affair. Happy now?"

The silence stretched out; Hotch made jokes so rarely that it caught everyone off guard. Lizzie was as stunned as the others but for different reasons. She met Hotch's eyes and he winked at her, simultaneously sending a jolt of craving and an irresistible urge to laugh through her. She grinned back at him and Prentiss, JJ, Morgan and Reid all took this as a sign to relax. Emily began to laugh; Reid and JJ looked away in amused exasperation.

"Aw, you really had us going for a moment there, Hotch," declared Morgan and laughed along with the others. Turning to Lizzie, he said ironically, "great poker face, Liz."

* * *

On Thursday of that week, Lizzie drove Hotch to the George Washington University in D.C. for his lecture and watched from the sidelines, admiring how he kept the students' interest and attention and answered their questions thoughtfully and intelligently at the end.

They decided to get some lunch before they headed back to Quantico so Hotch took Lizzie to a lovely restaurant where they could sit outside and enjoy the late summer sunshine.

"This is such a gorgeous place, Hotch," said Lizzie as they sat down, looking around her. It was set on a quiet street and each table was decorated with a small vase of fresh flowers and had a parasol to shade the diners.

"Well I've been feeling bad that I haven't taken you out on a proper date yet," he replied.

Lizzie laid her napkin on her lap, smiled and said gently, "you are aware that it's been less than a week since we first got together, don't you? Admittedly that whole Saturday-to-Tuesday part felt like forever…"

"That's true," he replied returning her smile and giving her that old familiar jolt somewhere near her navel. She kept her eyes on him as the waiter approached, offering them a menu each, and admired his profile as he looked up at the attendant and accepted the card.

"Anyway," Lizzie continued when they were alone again, "we don't exactly need to go on a date to get to know each other. Not that I mind being treated to a lovely meal in such good-looking company," she quickly added, still smiling. "But we don't necessarily need to do all the things other people do. I already trust you completely."

Hotch paused in the act of pouring Lizzie a glass of water and looked up at her, momentarily taken aback and profoundly touched by her words. He felt a great surge of affection for the woman sitting opposite him and marvelled at her natural beauty, her hair shining in the sun and stirred by a light breeze. "Thank you," he said huskily after a moment.

Lizzie suddenly felt a little embarrassed, as if she had said too much. After all, they _had_ only got together a few days ago and she was worried that she might scare him off if she was too pushy; somehow it felt different when they were fully clothed and out in the open. Hotch read her accurately as usual though and reassured her, "that means a lot to me, Lizzie." His eyes conveyed the sincerity of his words and Lizzie was buoyed by a feeling of elation that stayed with her all through their meal.

They talked a little about work matters; Lizzie was particularly interested in the teaching side of Hotch's role when he visited schools as they had done that morning. She already knew the content of his lectures as she played a role in their composing, but was curious about how the students responded and whether he knew of many that had followed the path into behavioural analysis. Soon, however, the conversation veered towards more personal matters and Hotch asked her about her childhood in England, interested in the events that had led to her parents moving there and Lizzie coming back to her country of birth.

"Well you know I'm a quarter-English," she explained, "and my Mum's parents lived over there. When I was three, my grandfather was diagnosed with Parkinson's and, Mum being an only child, wanted to be there to care for him. Dad didn't want her flying backwards and forwards so he arranged for a transfer to London – he worked for a big accountancy firm – and we all went there to live. I don't remember anything about our life here before we went but I think my brother found it hard – he was twelve when we went and he was teased about his accent and missed basketball – they didn't play it in English schools back then. Anyway, Grandad died a few years later but we stayed and I didn't know any other life so, when I left university, I stayed too. My brother came back here for university though – he lives in New Jersey now."

"So what made you come here to live then?"

This question puzzled Lizzie slightly. "I thought you had detailed files on all our backgrounds and stuff?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.

"Yeah I do but it's just the cold, bare facts… Sorry Lizzie, I don't mean to pry–"

"No, Hotch, that's not what I meant at all! I just thought you knew…"

"Knew what?"

"Well, I was engaged…" Just then the waiter came over again to remove their empty plates and ask if they wanted to see the dessert menu, which they both declined, instead ordering a couple of coffees. When he had gone, Lizzie elaborated: "it was five years ago now. He died."

Hotch looked distraught and said softly, "I'm so sorry, Lizzie."

"It's okay. It was difficult to begin with but I'm fine now."

"How…" he began, curious but reluctant to cause Lizzie any further pain.

"Cancer," she replied. "He was diagnosed a few months after he proposed. We brought the wedding forward but then it spread to his liver and… well… we didn't quite make it." Lizzie felt her throat tightening and tears prick her eyes and picked up her water glass to take a sip, turning her head and blinking rapidly to disperse them. She was grateful for the waiter who came bustling over with their coffees, giving her time to collect herself again.

Keen to move on from the subject, she continued. "A couple of months later I came over here to visit my brother and his family – you know, a change of scenery and all that," she clarified with a smile. "I'd missed my brother – we were very close growing up: he took care of me when Mum and Dad weren't around – and his children were growing so fast. It occurred to me when I was here that I could so easily come back to live, even if it was just for a couple of years. There were a few legal things to sort out but luckily I was still a US citizen – I hadn't ever changed that – I sold our house and stayed with my brother while I was getting myself sorted out. I didn't want to be right on top of him and his family so I found my place in D.C. and, well, just started looking for work and managed to find the job of my dreams at the first interview I went to!" Hotch looked quizzically at her so she elaborated conspiratorially: "that was the one for the position of PA to the BAU Unit Chief."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Okay guys, really sorry, this is a v short chapter but I've been having real trouble getting inspired on this lately (plus my growing baby bump and associated aches and pains means that I can't sit still for too long – have to keep moving around!). Anyway, this is kinda short and sweet but the next chapter is pretty much there so I hope you enjoy.**

**As always, PLEASE review – I'm sure it'll help me get my muse back!**

* * *

They spent nearly the whole weekend at Hotch's apartment, only going out for groceries. Lizzie worried that she might outstay her welcome but Hotch assured her that he wanted her to stay. "Honestly, honey, I want to be with you," he said after dinner on Saturday evening, taking the plates she was clearing up out of her hands and putting them on the kitchen side. He gently placed his hand on her neck, saying "if you weren't here, what would I be doing? Probably working," he answered his own question. "Instead I've spent the day with an incredibly beautiful and sexy woman who makes me laugh and surprises me all the time."

"In a good way, I hope," said Lizzie, looking up at him through her lashes and with a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Yes," he replied, returning her smile.

"That's lucky." And Lizzie's hands immediately went to his trousers, quickly undoing his belt and moving on to his flies.

"_Definitely_ in a good way," he affirmed, lowering his lips to hers.

* * *

On Monday, they made their way into the office together as usual, using the excuse of Hotch being unable to drive to explain their arrival together, although Morgan lived nearer to Hotch and had offered to pick him up but they had managed to politely decline his offer on the grounds that Morgan was usually late.

Hotch was alone in his office late in the morning when Rossi came in and parked himself in the chair opposite.

"How's the shoulder?" he asked.

Hotch hadn't paid much mind to his injury in the past few days; apart from allowing Lizzie to change the dressing, plus the brief aggravation of getting into his clothes in the mornings – something that Lizzie flatly refused to help him with, claiming, to Hotch's amused exasperation, that it would be a torment – it hadn't figured in his thoughts. He had impatiently dispensed with the sling over the weekend and now it mainly just throbbed with a dull ache. "It's getting there," he replied. "Aren't you supposed to be lecturing today?"

"Not 'til this afternoon," said Rossi.

"What can I do for you then?"

Rossi looked at Hotch for a moment and obviously decided to come straight out with it. "You can tell me if you really were joking the other day," he said.

For a moment, Hotch didn't know what his friend was talking about. "About what?"

"Well… about you and Lizzie."

"What about me and Lizzie?" Hotch now knew exactly where this was going and also knew how Lizzie had felt when Garcia had guessed the truth.

"Your 'secret affair'," Rossi replied, embellishing the words unnecessarily. "Either you were joking or that was a clever bit of reverse psychology you worked on everyone."

Hotch thought about acting offended for a moment but decided it wouldn't do any good in the long run. "Oh that," he said as if he had forgotten about it. "Of course I was joking. I just felt sorry for her, being hounded by those jackals, that's all. I'm surprised you had to ask."

"Well, it's just that she didn't look all that surprised at the idea – more… I don't know… pleased."

"Pleased?" Hotch repeated incredulously, himself feeling a warm wave of pleasure.

"Oh come on, Hotch," said Rossi in exasperation. "You can't honestly tell me that you've worked with her for three years and you haven't noticed the fact that she does your bidding without question or complaint; she's hyper-aware of you and anticipates your every need, sometimes before even you know it…"

"That is her job, Dave," Hotch said reasonably. "That's what a personal assistant is supposed to do." Before Rossi could object, Hotch continued, "look, I care about her and yes, she does her job very well but it's really just profiling isn't it? And I'm really not all that complicated," he finished self-deprecatingly.

Rossi continued, ignoring Hotch's protestations: "And don't think I didn't see the look on your face the other night when she was dancing with Morgan.

Hotch just gave Rossi a withering look, implying that he was reading far too much into things. After a moment, though, the barrage continued: "so you wouldn't say that the pair of you act like a married couple then?" said Rossi. "I mean a _happily_ married couple," he elaborated, evidently wanting to make the distinction from his own failed marriages.

Hotch was stunned. He looked at his friend's face and saw that, despite the man's amusement, he was serious about his last statement. Okay, maybe there was some truth to it but they had had that rapport for years – it wasn't a product of their physical relationship; in fact it was more accurate to say that it was the other way around. "Dave, you can read too much into simple office banter sometimes. We just have a similar sense of humour and, like I said, she's just really good at her job."

Hotch knew it was a pretty weak argument and Rossi didn't look entirely convinced; in fact he was still wearing a small smirk, but he stood up nonetheless and prepared to leave. "Okay, have it your way," he said, raising his hands in submission. "But you know, it's not such a bad idea: you should really think about it," and he left.

Hotch sat and stared for a few moments in surprise at the space where Rossi had just stood. Had he just received Dave's blessing?


	8. Chapter 8

The following Friday evening, Hotch and Lizzie were watching television in his apartment. Lizzie had manoeuvred herself so she was lying between his legs, leaning back on his chest. His right arm was wrapped protectively around her and she was absently stroking it, smoothing the hairs; his left hand rested on her hip. Hotch loved the feeling of her body on his own, her small weight creating a delightful pressure on his chest. His lips were on her hair and he inhaled her scent with every breath he took. He wasn't really watching the program, lost as he was in a feeling of contentedness that would have surprised him if he had been with anyone else; he couldn't imagine anyone but Lizzie having this effect on him. He was brought out of this reverie as Lizzie gently but firmly picked up his hand and placed it inside her top. She had taken her bra off earlier and he smiled and kissed her hair as his fingers curled around her breast and gently stroked her skin, teasing her nipple erect.

"Hotch?" she said after a few minutes.

"Mmm?" he replied distractedly.

"Would you mind taking me back to my place in the morning?"

"Of course," he replied, thinking she wanted to pick something up or water her plants. "Why's that?"

Lizzie shifted a little so she could look at him. "You've got Jack this weekend, haven't you?"

"Yes." Hotch always looked forward to weekends with his son, who was growing so fast he couldn't quite believe it.

"Well it's probably best if I'm not here."

"Oh." He paused. She was absolutely right, of course; he hadn't yet had a chance to tell Jack about Lizzie and he wasn't sure how the news would be received. He knew Hayley had a new boyfriend but Jack had told Hotch once that he didn't like him and suddenly he was worried that his son would take a similar dislike to Lizzie, because she wasn't Jack's mother.

"It's okay, I know it's a delicate situation. I don't want to rush either you or him into anything. You don't have to tell him about me."

"Of course I'll tell him," Hotch replied. "I don't want to hide our relationship from him. Just because we have to treat the team like seven-year-olds, doesn't mean Jack will act like one!"

Lizzie smiled at him, the warmth in her eyes flowing over him. He leaned down to kiss her and reluctantly withdrew his hand from her top as she turned over to face him.

Their lovemaking was unhurried that night – Hotch's healing shoulder still compelling them to be a little careful – but all the more intense for it, and when they eventually slept, they knew no more until the morning.

* * *

Lizzie had spent a few hours on Saturday at the garden but no groups had visited that day so she had taken the time to do some overdue maintenance. It was beginning to get dark when she decided to call it a day and started to pack up, collecting her tools and locking them away in the shed. She washed her hands and sat down to rest for a while on the camomile bench which she had created some time ago, the scent of the crushed leaves quickly reaching her senses in the warm air. It was such a peaceful place when there was no-one around, Lizzie loved it at this time and resolved that she would like to share it with her lover. It was a surprise just then as her phone rang and she saw that it was Hotch. She hadn't expected to see or hear from him until they returned to work, as he would have Jack until he dropped the boy at school on Monday.

"Hi babe," she purred into the handset. "This is a nice surprise."

"You didn't think I could go a whole day without at least hearing your voice, did you?" he replied.

"I didn't dare hope," said Lizzie. "Is Jack in bed?"

"Yeah, finally."

"What did you do today then?"

"I took him to the zoo."

"What, here in D.C.? That's a great zoo – I love it!"

"Yeah it was good fun – Jack wanted to see everything – he ran me ragged all day," Hotch said laughing.

"Oh come on," said Lizzie, "you can go toe to toe with violent criminals, Hotch! _And_," she continued mischievously,"you can more than satisfy me, even without the use of your favoured arm!" This elicited a laugh from him. "Surely you can keep up with a seven-year-old boy!"

"Oh yeah? You wanna try it?" he countered.

"Easy," Lizzie rejoined, grinning.

"Okay, I'll take you up on that challenge: Jack wants to meet you."

"What?" Lizzie was taken completely off guard by this.

"He wants to meet you," Hotch repeated. "I told him about us and he said you could come to the beach with us tomorrow."

"I'd _love_ to," Lizzie said, still amazed.

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Why would I mind?" she asked, touched yet amused by his concern. "Let's see now: I get to spend time with you that I didn't think I'd have; I love the beach and I love children – the fact that Jack is half of you means that he's even more important. What is there that's bad for me?"

"Honey, I don't want you to feel pressurised in any way, but I'm pretty sure he wants to vet you."

"I know, babe," she reassured him gently. "He's got every right to do so."

"Thank you," Hotch replied fervently. "You're amazing."

"No, I'm just rational."

"Okay, it's settled then?" Lizzie detected the lightening of his voice at her words of reassurance. "We'll pick you up around 10? And you can experience the cyclone that is Jack Hotchner!"

"Great, I can't wait!" The thought was beginning to settle in and Lizzie found that she was excited and nervous at the same time, despite her claim of rationality.

"I'll remind you of those words tomorrow evening," he warned.

* * *

The next morning, Lizzie was up early to make sure she was ready when Hotch and Jack turned up. Her nervousness had not abated since speaking to Hotch but she rationalised that the boy had been remarkably open in meeting her and sharing his father with her for the day so she took comfort in that thought. She wore her bikini under her clothes – a pair of three-quarter length tight jeans and a t-shirt – and was just putting her things into a bag when the buzzer went, announcing their arrival.

She ran down the stairs and found the two Hotchners waiting by the car, laughing together. The elder was looking incredibly sexy in jeans and a polo shirt. He reached out and ruffled his son's hair affectionately and Lizzie then looked at the boy and smiled: Jack had his father's build – he was tall for his age with long legs and a leanness that she knew would fill out into muscle when he was older. He had also inherited Hotch's thick, almost black, hair and his dark eyes.

Hotch then approached her with a smile, taking her bag, and introduced them.

"It's great to meet you Jack," said Lizzie, holding out her hand, "and thanks for letting me join you both today."

"That's okay," the boy replied, a little shyly, taking Lizzie's hand. "Nice to meet you too."

"Right," said Hotch, still smiling, "shall we get going then?" He put Lizzie's bag in the boot of the car and they all got in and set off.

"So Jack," Lizzie said, turning in her seat to face him as they drove out of the car park, "I hear you went to the zoo yesterday."

"Yeah," he replied.

"What did you see there?"

"Erm… We saw lions, didn't we daddy?"

"Yes," replied Hotch, glancing in the rear view mirror at his son. "And tigers, wolves, cheetahs… Tell Lizzie what happened with the wolves, Jack."

Jack looked a little shy as he started. "Well, it was feeding time and they had these huge lumps of meat," he spread his hands wide to illustrate just how huge the meat was.

"Wow, that _is_ huge," said Lizzie, impressed.

"Yeah, and they were all, like, bloody and dripping."

Jack was evidently buoyed by Lizzie's encouragement as she pulled a face and said, "eew!"

"Jack!" admonished Hotch with a laugh.

"Well they were," the boy defended himself.

"So what happened then?" asked Lizzie.

"They threw it in the cage and the wolves _ripped_ it up." Here he was miming tearing the meat with this hands and teeth. "They were growling and fighting and stuff," he bared his teeth in a snarl and Lizzie changed her expression to one of fear.

"Wow, I bet that was really scary wasn't it?" she asked.

"No," he replied, "they were in a cage!"

"Well that was lucky, wasn't it? Otherwise they might have mistaken you for their lunch and gobbled you up!"

Jack giggled and said "no they wouldn't! Their tummies were already full!"

"Well," said Lizzie authoritatively, "despite the fact that they're in a zoo, they're still wild animals, Jack, and wild animals never know when their next meal will come. So I reckon you might have ended up being dessert!"

He laughed loudly at this, evidently thrilled at the thought of being eaten by a pack of wolves. When he'd recovered, Jack looked pensive for a moment, then took both Lizzie and Hotch by surprise by asking, "where are you from?"

"Jack, don't be cheeky," Hotch warned.

"It's alright," said Lizzie. "Is it my accent, Jack?"

"Yeah. You sound like Lady Penelope!"

Lizzie mouthed 'Lady Penelope?' at Hotch who clarified: "from Thunderbirds." He continued in a low voice so that Jack wouldn't hear: "he had a huge crush on her a while ago," he said with a smile.

Lizzie laughed and turned back to the boy. "Okay, well I'm flattered, Jack. But where is Lady Penelope from?"

He took a moment to think and tentatively asked, as though he thought Lizzie was pulling his leg, "are you from England?"

"Yes," she replied. "Well, I grew up there anyway."

"Why do you live here then?"

"It's a bit complicated but I was born in New Hampshire so really I just came back home."

"So why did you live in England?"

"Well, unfortunately my grandpa, who was English, was ill, so my parents moved there when I was young to look after him." Jack's expression took on a hint of sadness at this which struck Lizzie that, even at his age, he had great empathy – presumably a trait that he got from his father.

"How old were you?" he asked.

"I was three."

"Do you remember living here before?"

"No, I don't remember anything about it really."

"So why did you come back here?"

"Jack!" Hotch kept his voice light but was evidently uneasy that they were heading into sensitive territory for Lizzie and she met his eyes, trying to convey her deep appreciation of his concern for her. But Lizzie didn't want to start her relationship with Jack by hiding things from him, so she softly touched Hotch on the arm to reassure him. "You don't have to, Lizzie," he said quietly.

"It's okay, Hotch," she reassured, turning back to the boy and saying, "I left England because I wanted a change: you see, I lost someone I loved very much."

Jack looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do you mean they died?"

Lizzie was struck once again by the boy's maturity and perception. "Yes," she replied.

"I had a dog called Homer who died," he explained. "He's in heaven now. Is your friend in heaven?"

"Yes, I believe he is," said Lizzie.

Jack paused for a moment, then a thought struck him and he said, "maybe he could play with Homer then."

Lizzie gave him a warm smile and said, "I'm sure he will, Jack."

He seemed pleased at the notion and looked out the window in contemplation but all other thoughts were chased away when he caught sight of the sea and asked his father excitedly if they had arrived.

"Yes, we're nearly there, son," replied Hotch. A few minutes later they parked the car, retrieved their things from the boot and made their way down to the beach. It was a relatively small beach, only a few hundred yards wide, with golden sand scattered with shells and punctuated by a few rocky outcroppings. It seemed fairly quiet, only three other families having had the same idea.

They set up a base, then Hotch said, "Okay, who's ready for a swim then?" Jack exclaimed with delight and they all got ready to go into the water.

Lizzie only had to take off her jeans and t-shirt so she was quickly ready. "That was quick," said Hotch, seeing her waiting.

"Girl's gotta be prepared, you know!"

When the others were set, she said to Jack, "race you to the water!" and set off at a sprint towards the sea, Jack in hot pursuit. Hotch followed at a more leisurely pace, pleased beyond all his hopes that Lizzie and Jack seemed to be getting on so well after so short a time.

The water was beautifully warm, having had the whole summer to heat up, so they stayed in for some time, until Lizzie noticed that Jack was getting cold. "Hotch," she said, "Jack's cold – his teeth are chattering." Jack valiantly tried to convince them that he could stay in the water a bit longer but wasn't successful so they returned to the beach and dried off.

Lizzie wrapped her towel around her waist and approached Hotch: she was concerned about his shoulder as it was still healing and he still had a bandage around it which was now wet through. "How is it?" she asked, as he peeled back one edge to check. Despite her worry, she couldn't help but admire him in his swimming shorts with his wet hair roughly tousled and standing in spikes.

"It's fine. It'll dry out."

"You mustn't leave a wet bandage on that," she scolded gently. "Let me change it. You've got a first-aid kit in the car, haven't you?" At his confirmation of this, Lizzie went to fetch it and returned a short time later to find that Jack had put on some dry shorts and a t-shirt and his father was making sure he was warm enough. _Oh god_, she thought, watching as Jack nimbly danced out of Hotch's grasp only to be caught a moment later, the sound of his excited giggles carrying across the beach, _I am in so much trouble._

Hotch looked up at her approach and caught her gazing at him hungrily. "What?" he asked, pausing with Jack draped over his uninjured shoulder in a fireman's lift, the boy laughing almost uncontrollably.

"Nothing," Lizzie replied with a smile to herself, thinking _hnn-hn-nn!_

Hotch put the boy down and gave him something to eat, then sat on his towel and Lizzie dropped to her knees at his side. A thrill coursed through her at feeling his skin under her hands again: they had held back for Jack's sake and the anticipation had made it feel like the very first time they had touched – the same charged sensations running through her fingers and up to her heart, making it beat strong and fast in her chest. She removed the wet dressing and dried the area, tutting in mock-disapproval at the sand he'd managed to get under it. The wound was certainly healing and the bruises had eased down to a dull yellow but, compared to his old scar which was white, this was still an angry red. He watched her as she took out a new bandage and carefully but firmly re-dressed his shoulder. Lizzie met his eyes and a smile stole irresistibly across her face; her hands were still now, resting gently on his shoulder. She wanted so much to feel his lips on hers, his deft tongue sliding inside her mouth and his strong, warm hands encircling her waist…

She literally jumped out of her reverie when Jack's shrill voice piped up: "you're not going to start kissing are you?"

"Excuse me?" Hotch laughed, amused at his son's childish aversion to the idea.

"That's what Mommy and Trent do" Hotch looked at Lizzie, amused disbelief written across his face, then back at Jack who continued: "yeugh!"

"Right, that's it!" exclaimed Hotch, making a grab for Jack who, once again, managed to squirm out of his grasp and ran off cackling, closely followed by Hotch. Lizzie sat down, stretching her legs out on the sand and rubbed sun cream into her skin, watching them until, after a few minutes, Hotch caught the boy and carried him back to Lizzie under one arm like a package, squirming and laughing.

"Want to play some soccer?" he asked them both as he deposited Jack on the sand.

"Sure," said Lizzie, getting up and slipping into her jeans while Jack cheered. "How do we do this then? Me and Jack against you?"

"How's that fair?" Hotch asked laughingly.

"Well, we're both a lot smaller than you – you could easily outrun us."

"Okay, you're on," came the reply.

"That okay with you, Jack?" she asked, receiving an enthusiastic affirmation.

* * *

Hotch marked out a rough pitch on a relatively flat area of sand, watching while Lizzie arranged towels at either end to represent goal posts and his son fetched the ball from their bag.

Jack kicked off first and quickly scored the first goal, passing the ball to Lizzie who skipped around Hotch and quickly returned it for the boy to slot between the markers.

Hotch was amazed and overjoyed at how quickly Jack had taken to Lizzie. She was a natural with his son; making jokes with him, constantly encouraging him and cheering when he played well, to which Jack responded in kind. He was a fairly outgoing boy anyway but this was beyond Hotch's wildest expectations.

He was also impressed at Lizzie's speed and agility – she could nimbly change direction at full speed to evade him, although she never ignored Jack and frequently sent the ball his way when she could have scored herself. He knew his admiration was something of a distraction for him, and was only fuelled by her semi-nakedness – her bikini top and jeans working to show off the curves of her hips and her smooth, flat stomach; her skin gleaming from the lotion she had put on – so when the score reached six-nil and Jack was giving Lizzie a high-five, he called timeout and fetched them all a drink.

"Struggling to keep up are you?" Lizzie asked mischievously, taking a drink from her bottle and grinning conspiratorially at Jack, who laughed. She was panting slightly and bent over to rest her hands on her knees.

"Hey!" he admonished the boy. "You're supposed to be on my side!" He was equally out of breath but had nothing to show for it as yet.

"No I'm not, I'm on _our_ side," Jack retorted, indicating himself and Lizzie, who now stood next to him in mock-rivalry.

"Oh _really_?" he enquired with a laugh. "Well we'll have to see about that!"

"Ooh, the gloves are off then," Lizzie quipped.

Hotch grinned and winked at her as he took the ball to the centre and kicked off again. He resolved to try and ignore Lizzie's not inconsiderable charms – for the moment at any rate – and at least make a reasonable accounting of himself.

They played for about an hour and a half, by which time the score was 14-12 to Jack and Lizzie, the boy having scored nine of their goals, although their tally could have been higher if she'd taken a few shots that presented themselves instead of letting Jack have a go. At that point, they called time and Hotch sent Jack off to fetch the goal post towels while he and Lizzie dropped, exhausted, to the sand. He turned to look at her as she lay back, her knees bent, watching her belly rise and fall with her panting and feeling the first stirrings of arousal as the image of her lying back on his bed, breathless, came to his mind.

He was interrupted from this vision by his son returning with the towels and dropping to his knees beside him.

"Well done lad," he said proudly. "You were brilliant." Jack's beaming smile pierced his heart. He had missed so much of Jack's childhood, not only since Hayley had left him but prior to that too; he'd missed his son's first steps because he'd been away on a case – that just made his weekends with his son all the more precious.

"He's fantastic!" said Lizzie sitting up again. "I reckon you might have another David Beckham on your hands there." Jack laughed with delight, stood up and started playing keepy-uppy a short distance away.

Hotch looked back at Lizzie affectionately and, after a moment, asked "do you fancy another dip to cool off?" When she agreed to the idea, Hotch stood and held out his hand to help her up. Lizzie removed her jeans and he called to his son to join them. Taking Lizzie's hand again while Jack ran ahead, they strolled to the water. "Are you having a good time?" he asked.

"I'm having so much fun," Lizzie replied.

"I was worried you and Jack wouldn't hit it off but you seem to have enchanted him."

"To tell the truth, so was I," she admitted, watching as the boy stood in the shallows, jumping the tiny swells that were the remnants of waves. "But he's a lovely child, babe, and he obviously adores you. He wants to make you happy…" she smiled up at him warmly, "and I do too, so there's one thing we have in common already."

Hotch couldn't quite believe the way this beautiful woman made him feel – he loved her frank honesty, her generous compliments that she was never shy in giving; her natural state of happiness seemed to radiate to anyone she directed her attention to. Not to mention her ability to lighten almost any situation with a joke or cheeky comment – some of which caught him completely off-guard, a state that he never normally enjoyed, having always tried to keep every aspect of his life under tight control. But Lizzie got away with it every time. He reflected that this was no doubt because she was so open and there was no side to her remarks: she said what she felt and invariably it was complimentary, simply because she rarely felt negatively towards those around her.

He slowed to a halt at the water's edge while all this was going through his mind. Lizzie continued for a couple of steps then turned back to him in enquiry. She was stunning against the shining sea; her eyes sparkled and her lips were parted invitingly. Gently tightening his grip on her hand, he slowly pulled her close, slipping his free arm around her delicate waist, feeling the warmth of her skin under his fingers and lightly pressed against his body.

"What about Jack?" Lizzie asked quietly.

He looked up to find Jack occupying himself looking in a small rock pool a few yards away. "He's okay," he whispered as he lowered his face to hers and kissed her tenderly, encountering her tongue with his own and tasting the slight tang of salt on her lips. When he finally drew back and looked into her face, Lizzie's eyes opened leisurely, meeting his with pupils fully dilated. She seemed to be adrift for a moment, then slowly came back to herself.

"Daddy! Look at this!" Jack came running over with a moulted crab shell held dangling at arm's length in his hand.

Hotch looked at Lizzie in apology but she smiled reassuringly and they turned to see what the boy had found.

* * *

They arrived back at Lizzie's apartment just as it was beginning to get dark. They all got out of the car and walked to the door together.

Lizzie crouched down to the boy's level and said, "thanks for a fantastic day, Jack."

To her surprise he stepped up and kissed her on the cheek. She looked up in wonder at Hotch who was wearing pretty much the same expression on his face. She stood and said to Hotch, "see you in the morning, then."

Hotch handed his keys to his son, telling him to go and wait in the car, but Jack complained, "oh daddy! Do I _have_ to?"

"No," replied Hotch, "but I'm going to be kissing Lizzie in about a minute so you might not want to stick around for that." Jack made a face, took the keys and ambled off towards the car.

Lizzie called after him, "'bye Jack."

The boy turned back to them and said, "'bye Lizzie," waved and continued with a little more spring in his step.

They watched him until he was safely inside the car; Hotch then turned to Lizzie with a look of contentment that filled her with warmth. He moved closer to her, gently putting one hand around her waist; his other hand drifted through her hair as he looked down into her face. "Honey, you were amazing today. Thank you so much."

Lizzie was in a daze of happiness; those dreamy eyes of his were locked onto hers and the feel of his luscious body pressed against her, his strong, warm hands caressing her tenderly, were enough to make her oblivious to everything else. She smiled blissfully up at him, "I didn't do anything except spend a wonderful day with two incredible people."

Hotch lowered his head to give Lizzie a gentle and lingering kiss, eventually drawing back and meeting her eyes again. Lizzie smiled and said softly, "you'd better go," gesturing towards Jack who was waiting patiently in the car, yet wishing that the two of them could stay right where they were forever.

"I know," replied Hotch reluctantly. "I'll see you tomorrow." He kissed her once more and left Lizzie on the steps looking after him.

* * *

**A/N: Right guys, there's just one more chapter to go before the end of Part 1 and you're still not sharing the love!! Should I continue into Part 2? You tell me.**

**Part 2 will take a different tack to Part 1: less lemony and more case-y but it's still very much a part of this story. However, I do have other things I'm working on and it would be lovely to know whether you all would like me to continue with this or if my energy is better spent elsewhere!!**

**Please please please review – even if it's just to say you hate it – as I'm beginning to lose my inspiration for this story (what can I say? I'm an unrepentant attention-seeker, LOL!!).**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Well you're a heartless lot aren't you?!?! Nearly 100 unique users and over 200 hits on my story each time I upload a new chapter and still only a smattering of reviews!! Even threats of discontinuation don't work on most of you, LOL! Although I would like to send out a special thank you to I Philosoraptor, ToAshes, Thn0715, Robbenmel and Eva1983 for their lovely reviews and to apologise for not having replied to you personally. Also thanks go out to KahiMori and Ileana22 who also reviewed earlier chapters, plus all those who have put my story on their alert or favourites. You guys rock!**

**Anyway, I've found that I just can't bring myself to stop here so you're all getting Part 2 whether you like it or not. But remember, peeps, reviews make me write faster so keep them coming!!!**

* * *

Monday passed in a whirl of activity: a large number of students came to Quantico for a tour of the FBI Academy and Hotch spent most of the morning and the early part of the afternoon showing them in groups around the BAU. Then he was shut up in meetings for the rest of the day, first with Erin Strauss and then with the team, so that Lizzie didn't see much of him at all until after 6.30 when he returned to his office and Lizzie brought him a cup of coffee.

"Thanks honey, you must have read my mind," he said gratefully taking the drink from her.

"Are you okay, babe?" she asked. "You look exhausted." She wanted to touch him but knew she couldn't because, unlike her own office which only had windows to the outside, Hotch's office looked out over the bullpen where there were still a number of agents working.

"No I'm fine," he replied, smiling. "It's just been non-stop all day; those students were a lot more work than usual." Lizzie smiled back and he continued. "Anyway, the day hasn't finished yet."

"Why?" Lizzie asked. "What else do you need to do?"

Hotch smiled. "Take you out to dinner."

"Oh babe, you don't have to do that," said Lizzie, surprised.

"Why not?" he said, "I want to thank you for yesterday."

"But there's nothing to thank me for – I keep telling you, I had a brilliant time: don't forget that I got to spend an entire day with you wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and, believe me, there is _nothing _bad about that!" she said mischievously as Hotch gave her a look of mock outrage. Lizzie went on in a conspiratorial tone, "actually, between you and me, if we'd been alone, I would probably have got us both arrested!"

"Well, we could always go back there this weekend…" said Hotch, raising his eyebrows roguishly and giving Lizzie that old familiar jolt somewhere near her navel. "Anyway, I've booked a table for eight-thirty so, unless you don't want me to take you out…"

Lizzie grinned. "You know I do, babe –" She was interrupted as Rossi knocked on the door and came in with Morgan, and she had to consciously revert back to work mode.

"We're all going out for a beer; you two gonna join us?" asked the older man.

"Thanks Dave, but I've got too much to do here," replied Hotch.

"Liz?" Morgan asked.

Lizzie looked at Hotch surreptitiously and also refused. "Sorry guys, but I've got plans."

"Ooh," said Morgan, "hot date with the mystery guy, eh?"

"Yep," she replied smugly and, turning to Hotch, "so, if you don't need me any more tonight, I need to go home and put my face on."

"'Course," said Hotch, going along with the deception. "You should have said, Lizzie, I wouldn't have kept you so late…"

"It's okay – I've got time," she said smiling. "See you tomorrow guys," she said to the room in general and left them to it. Collecting her things together back in her own office, she heard Morgan and Rossi trying, unsuccessfully, to convince Hotch to leave his work and go out with them and then they both left. She popped her head around the door again and asked, "so what's the plan?"

Hotch made sure the others were gone and replied, "I'll pick you up around eight-fifteen, okay?"

"Okay, see you then." And she left.

* * *

Hotch pulled up outside Lizzie's apartment and jumped out of the car to push the buzzer. Lizzie let him into the building and he climbed the stairs to her floor. The breath caught in his throat and he stopped in his tracks as he saw her standing in the open doorway, smiling demurely. She was wearing a long, dark green oriental style sleeveless dress that hugged her figure beautifully with a long split up one side revealing a smooth, well-formed leg, and had put her hair up in an elegant style with a few tendrils framing her face.

"Wow," was all he could say as he approached her, taking her hands and kissing her gently.

"Wow yourself," she replied, a broad smile stealing across her face.

"You look… incredible," he said.

"Thanks," Lizzie replied, a faint blush of pleasure colouring her cheeks which sent a quiver of desire through Hotch's body.

"You ready?" he managed to say.

"Oh. Yes. Um… am I staying at yours tonight?" she asked.

Hotch smiled. "'Course you are," he said. "You don't honestly think I'd be able to leave you at the end of the evening, looking like that do you?"

Lizzie's expression changed to one of mischief as she stood on her toes to reach his ear and whispered, "in that case you should probably know that I'm going commando," and turned away from him to collect her bag.

That initial quiver became a surge of heat converging in his groin as he processed the thought and he absently held onto one of her hands, allowing himself to be led into her apartment. He was mesmerised by the subtle sway of her hips and the smooth skin of her back which was laid bare to the waist. She stopped in the hallway to pick up an overnight bag which she handed to him.

"You know, we don't _have _to go out," he said, smiling suggestively and slipping his free hand around her waist to draw her body into his. He bent to brush his lips against her neck, breathing in her perfume as she laughed, gliding a hand under his jacket.

"It was your idea, remember?" she said.

"Oh yes," he said, making a show of pulling himself together. "Okay, I'm good. Let's go before I change my mind again."

He met Lizzie's laughing eyes and almost lost his resolution again but, with an effort, put one foot in front of the other and made it out of the building with this incomparably beautiful woman on his arm.

* * *

They arrived at a modern-looking restaurant overlooking the waterfront and were sat at a window-side table with a beautiful view of the city lights on the water. When the waiter brought their wine, Hotch raised his glass and said, "Well, here's to our first official date." Lizzie chuckled and blushed a little, clinking her glass to his and took a sip.

They chatted about all sorts of things from childhood memories to politics and revelled in each other's company. Around half way through the main course, Hotch decided to ask a question that had been niggling at the back of his mind.

"So how did you get so good at soccer?"

"Oh," said Lizzie, surprised at the change in subject. "Well, when I was young I idolised my brother and I wanted to do everything he did so, when he joined the local team, I joined the girls' team. He was really very tolerant of me," she said with an affectionate smile.

"Really?"

"God yeah," said Lizzie, grinning. "I was a pain in the neck!" Hotch laughed. "I followed him around _everywhere_! Mind you, I think he quite enjoyed having someone to fetch and carry for him," she added wryly. "Anyway, turns out I was quite nimble, being so small, and was able to control the ball really well. I played for the county while I was at school, but my college didn't have a women's team so it kind of petered out."

Hotch looked impressed for a moment but then realisation dawned. "So you set me up at the beach then?" he asked, amused disbelief written across his face.

"Not _exactly_," Lizzie replied a little awkwardly. "But I knew that Jack had to be on the winning team, and I also knew that my brother would never let me forget it if I lost a game of beach football, so I'm afraid that meant you... had to lose," she explained, trailing off at the end. "Sorry," Lizzie finished a little lamely.

Hotch just laughed and said, "it's okay, honey. I think my ego can take it." Lizzie felt a flush in her cheeks as she laughed with him.

From there, the conversation turned to Jack and, of course, Hotch never tired of talking about his son, his pride shining in his eyes.

"He idolises you, babe," Lizzie said, earning a beaming smile from her date. "It's so sweet: he has some of your mannerisms, you know," she added cheekily.

Hotch was surprised: he was unaware of having any particularly obvious mannerisms in the first place, let alone noticing his son picking up on them. "Like what?" he asked, intrigued.

"Well, he tilts his head to the side when he's asking a question. Just like you're doing now," Lizzie said, amused. Hotch self-consciously straightened his head. "No don't stop," she said, reaching out a hand over the table. "It's actually rather cute."

"Okay, what else does he do?" Hotch asked with a little trepidation: it wasn't so much that Lizzie had noticed these things in him but that they might be obvious to others; after all, a large part of his job involved interviewing serial killers and if they spotted any tells in his demeanour he could lose his authority over them.

"He half-folds his arms, but holds his left hand up, like this." Lizzie placed her right hand in the crook of her left arm and held her left hand out slightly.

"When do I do that?"

"When you're working out a puzzle and talking at the same time. You use your left hand to gesticulate," she said with a smile.

"Jeez, I didn't know I was that easy to read," he said.

"Well it's not as if they're huge tells, are they? They don't give anything away about your emotional state," said Lizzie, knowing exactly what was worrying him. "Besides, I've known you for a long time – a lot longer than anyone you might have to interview – so I'm bound to know you better than they do, babe."

This did make sense to Hotch and he was unwilling to worry about it right now anyway; he wanted to enjoy the evening and, besides, he was pretty sure Lizzie had only brought the subject up to bring out his pride in his son. At that realisation, he regretted his reaction.

"I'm sorry honey, I didn't mean to digress like that," he apologised, then smiled, pulling their conversation back to where Lizzie had been headed originally. "So, tell me more: what else did you notice about Jack?"

They talked and laughed and, when the meal was over, Hotch drove them back to his apartment and had his anticipation fulfilled and his patience rewarded when he was able, finally, to peel Lizzie out of that gorgeous dress and she was standing in front of him wearing nothing but a pair of heels and a smile.

* * *

The team were called away on another case on Thursday so Lizzie finished up at the office and made her way home alone. After having spent a few days at Hotch's, there was a small pile of mail and her plants looked like they needed some attention, so she changed into her pyjamas and big fluffy slippers, watered the plants and checked them for any wilting leaves, then sat down with a cup of tea and went through her mail whilst enjoying a chick flick she'd found on TV.

It was late on Saturday afternoon and Lizzie was just walking through her front door, laden with groceries, when her phone rang. She quickly dropped her bags in the kitchen and rummaged in her handbag for her phone, getting more frantic as she couldn't find it. Eventually it jumped into her hand and she flipped it open without even looking to see who it was but assuming – hoping – feeling – that it was Hotch.

"Hello?"

"Hi honey," came that rich, ambrosial voice. "how're you doing?"

"Ooh, all the better for hearing your sexy voice, babe," she purred into the receiver, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "How about you?"

"I'm on my way back right now, actually–"

Lizzie interrupted eagerly, "so you've finished the case then? How did it go?"

"To be honest, I'm not really in the mood to talk about it tonight," he said. "I just… need to see you. Do you mind if I come over?"

"Do I mind?" Lizzie asked incredulously. "Babe, you know you _never_ have to ask that! When can you get here?"

"Well I just wanna run home for a quick shower and I can be with you in about forty-five minutes if that's okay?"

"Of course it is, but you can shower here, you know – you don't have to go home first."

There was a pause as Hotch considered her offer. "Okay," he said eventually, "as long as you don't mind, honey."

"Again with the minding, babe!" Lizzie exclaimed. "You've just made my day – I get you naked in my bathroom!" she quipped, already anticipating that particular pleasure.

Hotch laughed. "Alright honey, I'll see you in about fifteen then."

"Okay," Lizzie replied and hung up.

Her first thought then was that she should change, as she had just thrown on whatever she could find that morning and it wasn't her best look ever! She ran into the bedroom and stripped out of her clothes, quickly putting on a pair of peach-coloured lacy shorts and matching bra, over which she wore her three-quarter length jeans and a low-cut v-neck jumper. There. It wasn't too obvious that she hadn't been wearing that already!

She then quickly brushed her hair and touched up her make-up before returning to the kitchen to quickly put the shopping away, making sure there was a cold bottle of wine and some beers in the fridge. Whilst doing these mindless tasks, Lizzie's thoughts wandered forwards to the moment she'd see her lover on her doorstep. Boy, had she missed him the past couple of days! They had spoken on the phone in the evenings, both times winding up indulging in some pretty steamy phone sex to alleviate their almost overwhelming thirst, but it just wasn't the same as having physical contact and seeing his body's reaction to her touch, or to feel her own response to him. She could feel her anticipation and excitement growing already but forced herself to remember that he had travelled a couple of hundred miles today and couldn't be unreasonable just because she was gagging.

A few minutes later, however, Hotch arrived and the kiss he gave her literally made her toes curl. _Okay_, she thought, _he's obviously in the mood!_ Her fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt as his tongue sought hers and his hand buried itself deep in her hair. Tiny stars were beginning to form behind her eyes and Lizzie was eventually forced to come up for air.

"Wow," she breathed, a fire already set to smouldering in her pants. "Am I glad you came straight here!"

"So am I," Hotch replied. "But I really could use that shower," he continued a little reluctantly. "I just need to wash the case off me, and then I'm all yours."

Lizzie smiled, replying, "babe, you say the nicest things." She detached her fists from his shirt and allowed him to go and refresh himself while she went to pour a couple of drinks for them. After a few minutes, though, Lizzie heard the shower turn on and was taken by the urge to join him. She wandered out into the hallway and looked towards the bathroom to discover that he had left the door wide open. Perhaps he had had the same idea, she thought – or maybe hoped – as she leaned on the door frame to watch him in all his glorious nakedness. He was facing the wall, his face turned up to the water, and Lizzie was captivated by the vision of this Adonis with rivulets streaming over his shoulders and back, then down to his taut ass and down his long, muscular legs. While she drank this in, he lifted his hands to his face to wipe away the water and turned around to find her eyeing him up. He grinned lopsidedly, with a look of hunger that sent a shiver down Lizzie's spine, and said "so, are you gonna join me then or just stand there gawping?"

Lizzie realised then that her lust had been written all over her face and matched his grin, replying, "actually I thought I would gawp for a while: you know, there's a particularly splendid view from where I'm standing," and received one of his pant-wettingly gorgeous smiles in return. Nevertheless she began to remove her clothing, allowing him to watch as she stripped slowly for him and loving the feeling of his eyes roaming greedily over her body. Taking his steadying hand she stepped into the shower, brazenly flaunting her naked body under the flow of warm water for his delectation. Instantly one arm slid around her waist, pulling her towards him, while the other hand gently stroked her face, brushing a strand of wet hair away as his mouth met hers eagerly, surprising Lizzie with the strength of his passion. The kiss was deep and insistent and one hand pressed firmly in the small of her back, crushing their bodies together.

Instantly Lizzie felt his great and rising need to lose himself in abandon and she was more than willing to oblige, her own desire having already been stoked by that first kiss in her doorway. Hotch wasn't often in this kind of mood and it was a definite departure from the man she had seen in the office every day for three years; his need for control didn't lose anything of his passion as a lover, but every once in a while, Lizzie had noticed, he threw everything to the wind, he was reckless and impulsive, and that always made for an interesting time.

Hotch's hands explored her skin while his mouth broke from Lizzie's to plant delicious kisses along her jaw line, down her neck and in the hollows above her clavicles. Oh she was in seventh heaven! But then his tongue was slowly encircling her nipple and one hand was cupping her other breast, slowly massaging her soft and pliant flesh, while the other descended to her hip and circled around to slip between her legs. Lizzie vaguely wondered if it was blasphemous to believe that there was an eighth heaven as a low appreciative groan escaped his lips at finding her slick with arousal. Her own hands had not been idle and she found herself digging her nails into the smooth skin of his back and shoulders. The heat between her legs was a raging fire now and Lizzie was moaning in pleasure as he softly stroked and kneaded her hard nub. She _needed_ him inside her, right now. But when she tried to reach for his very hard cock, he pushed her hand away and laughed almost cruelly at her whimpers of protest, evidently having other plans for her.

"_Please_, babe," she whimpered, fearing that she would explode if he didn't take her that second. He simply looked into her eyes as he placed one finger then the other in his mouth, slowly licking her juices from them and driving Lizzie to even greater heights of desire. He smiled, then dropped to one knee and laid hot kisses from her hip down to the hollow of her pelvis, his tongue fluttering over her skin and making her cry out in her need. He firmly parted her shaking legs and continued to tease her by softly licking her inner thighs before opening her wet folds and darting his tongue over her nub. Lizzie gasped and then he draped one of her legs over his shoulder and he was suckling on her and her gasps became cries. She was kneading his scalp with one hand, the other hanging on to the top of the shower screen above her and she would have crumbled to the floor if he hadn't been holding her up. Lizzie felt herself rise even further as his long, deft fingers slid inside her and curled forwards to stroke her in just the right place while he continued to suck on her throbbing nub, and she flew careening over the edge, crying out his name in pure, concentrated ecstasy.

Hotch rose to his feet again and Lizzie pulled his head down and pressed her mouth to his in a crushing kiss, tasting herself on him. She pushed him back against the wall and began to lavish his body with the kind of attention that he had just given her. She wanted to kiss every inch of him, to feel the smooth, soft skin which covered hard muscle beneath. Her mouth first migrated to his nipple which she licked and nibbled erect before moving on to the other one. Meanwhile, one hand lay on his ass as the other drifted down over his chest and stomach to take his rigid shaft in her grip, prompting a delicious moan to escape his lips. She massaged him slowly at first, then bent her knee to be on a level, musing, perhaps for the hundredth time, on just how much she loved his huge, beautiful, hard cock.

Already a few drops of pre-cum had emerged out of the tip and Lizzie lapped it up unhurriedly. God he tasted so good! She had to force herself to hold back from immediately swallowing his entire length – after all, he had teased her mercilessly and, she thought, two could play at that game! She played her tongue around the tip, wrapping her lips around his head and holding there for a moment before slowly drawing them back to release him again. Hotch's hands had risen to grip the top of the shower screen, just as Lizzie had done, and he rumbled deep in his chest. Lizzie drew her tongue tantalisingly along his length and he growled "Lizzie…" but she wasn't about to give in just yet, once again enveloping his head with her mouth but refusing to take him fully, instead licking at the tip of his cock and sucking ever so gently to provoke another growled warning from him: "Lizzie… honey…"

Lizzie smiled up at him and he gave her a reproving look that was tinged with desperation which just made Lizzie smile wider, knowing she had evened the score. Then, without warning, she took hold of his shaft in her hand and plunged him into her throat, her lips closed tightly around him, and he gasped in surprise and pleasure. She steadily drew her lips back along his length, sucking and licking him all the way, repeating this over and over, revelling in his moans which intensified with every moment.

Soon, Hotch couldn't take any more and he was begging her to stop before he came. "Honey, please… oh god… please… I don't want to come yet… let me sink deep into your pussy and fuck you 'til you scream." Well, what girl could possibly pass up an offer like that from such a man? Lizzie slowly withdrew her mouth from his cock and he let out a groan of disappointment, despite what he'd just said. Nevertheless, he took her hands and raised her to a standing position again, kissing her deeply before saying, a little breathlessly, "god I love it when you do that to me!"

She grinned and replied, "well I love doing that to you," then pressed her lips to his again, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Suddenly, Hotch's hands were on her bum, lifting her up and she squealed in surprise as he pressed her back against the wall, supporting her weight in his arms. Lizzie wrapped her legs around his hips and reached down to guide him into her. They cried out their pleasure simultaneously as he drove into her, filling her up and stretching her to her limit, and Lizzie was struck by the deep look of warmth and passion in his chocolatey eyes before capturing his mouth with her own in a fierce kiss which he returned with equal fervour.

Lizzie was sure she would erupt within seconds as Hotch began to thrust hard and deep into her, using his full length to stroke her to the utmost height and, true to his wish, she could not hold back her cries which rose to screams as he ground his pubic bone against her clit. At the same time she felt him further swell inside her and they rode the crest of delirium together, a few final powerful thrusts shooting his essence into her.

Lizzie dropped her head to Hotch's shoulder in exhaustion, breathing hard as if she'd just run a marathon, while he sandwiched her between his body and the wall. When she had regained her breath a little, a thought occurred to her that made her giggle and she lifted her head to look into Hotch's enquiring eyes.

"My neighbour's living room is just the other side of this wall," she explained, laughing and hitching a thumb over her shoulder. "I hope they couldn't hear us!"

Hotch raised one eyebrow and grinned rakishly, then replied, "so what if they could?"

Lizzie's eyes widened in astonishment at this and said, "I'm surprised at you, Aaron Hotchner – is that the attitude of a respectable, senior member of the FBI?"

"No," he replied, his grin widening further. "It's the attitude of a man with an incredibly beautiful and sexy woman impaled on his John Thomas."

Lizzie's outburst of laughter nearly made her fall out of Hotch's arms and they agreed it would probably be safest if he put her down. So, reluctantly, Lizzie unwrapped her legs from around him and they carefully separated before she put her feet back to earth.

"So," started Lizzie with a smile, keeping her arms around her lover's neck, "I thought you were going to have a shower?"

"Oh yes," said Hotch ironically. "I wonder what distracted me?" He leaned down to kiss her again, playfully drawing her back under the flow of water.

END OF PART ONE

* * *

**A/N: Well everyone, that's the end of Part 1 so tell me what you think. I thought I'd leave Hotch and Lizzie on a high note coz things are going to go downhill from here I'm afraid.**

**Look out for Part 2 coming soon....**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: So here's Part 2 of my story and, from here on, things take a turn for the worse… Warning: Please do not read any further if suggestion of sexual assault is distressing to you.**

PART 2  
Chapter 1

It was Monday morning and JJ was presenting a new case to the team.

"These five women were abducted and found murdered some days later in and around the DC area over the past two years." She pointed a remote control at the large screen on one side of the room and photos of four blonde women appeared, one by one, as JJ said their names. "Emma Carey, 37, was a stay-at-home mom, went missing on September 4th 2007 after dropping her son off at Clifton Elementary School in Clifton, Virginia. She was found on September 7th, having been tortured, beaten and then strangled." Susan Maycroft, 39, worked at a bank, she disappeared September 9th from the parking lot at Northgate Plaza Mall in Silver Spring and was found September 12th. Abigail Stone, 38, was a high school teacher, abducted September 4th 2008, found September 8th; and Corinne Baker, 39, was a lawyer and _she_ went missing on September 9th and was found on the 13th. They had all been beaten, tortured and then strangled." She pressed the remote again and, this time, the photos showed the corpses of these women, bruises covering their faces and bodies.

"Wait, so there was no evidence of sexual assault?" asked Reid.

"The first two didn't exhibit any signs but Abigail Stone and Corinne Baker were raped post-mortem," replied JJ. The team all paused to take this in.

After a few moments, JJ continued. "They were all taken from parking garages and dumped in the Potomac River." Pressing the remote again, the photos disappeared, to be replaced by that of a pretty brunette. "Three days ago, on September 4th, Tania Greyton, 30, was taken. She was found this morning by two fishermen in Piscataway Creek," a picture of Tania appeared on the screen, her body caught in reeds on a river bank, bruised and strangled "with the same injuries as the other women."

"He's changed his victimology," said Emily, looking slightly bemused. "The latest victim's a brunette and at least seven years younger than the first four. Are they sure it's the same unsub?"

"Although it's rare for an unsub to change his preference, it's not completely unheard of," Reid informed the room. "Kenneth Bianchi murdered women of all different races, ages and appearance."

"Yes but it's strange that he should kill four blondes in two years and then switch to a brunette this year."

"Well, given where they were taken from and where they were found; the type of injuries; the post-mortem violation; and the date pattern, the Arlington PD, who are heading up the investigation, are pretty sure this latest murder is connected to the previous four," JJ replied to Emily's query. "They'll know more when the coroner has had a look at Tanya."

"Were the bruises inflicted over the whole four days?" asked Morgan.

"Yes, the coroner's reports say that the women were beaten repeatedly over a period of time."

"There doesn't seem to be any obvious connection between the women's lives: a stay-at-home mom, a bank employee, a teacher and a lawyer," said Hotch. "JJ, what did the latest victim do for a living?"

"She was a barmaid."

"Okay, so they all appear to be from different socio-economic backgrounds. Reid, I want you and Garcia to look deeper, see if you can find some sort of a connection between them."

Reid nodded and said, "I'd also like to map out a geographical profile of where the women lived and worked and where they were abducted from – there may be a pattern in that."

"Fine," said Hotch. "Rossi, you and Morgan go to Piscataway Creek and see what you can get from the body – I know it may not be much; Prentiss, I want you to talk to the victims' families – Reid you go with her; JJ and I'll go straight to the precinct to meet with the lead detective. I think it may be useful for us to stay on-scene so bring your go-bags with you; we leave in thirty minutes."

* * *

It was less than an hour's drive to Arlington and the team made their way to their various assignments. Hotch and JJ arrived at the Arlington police station and were met by the chief officer on the case. He was a blond man of average height and stocky build with an open face which was smiling as the two agents approached him.

"Captain John Kleinman?" asked JJ, holding out her hand. "SSA Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone. This is SSA Aaron Hotchner."

The Captain shook Hotch's hand after relinquishing JJ's and led them into the station. "I'm glad you agreed to come," he said. "Although I'd hoped there'd be more of you."

"Our colleagues are out in the field already – we don't want to lose any time as he's going to be taking another victim in a couple of days," replied Hotch.

Kleinman showed them into a small room with three desks and a board which was covered with photos and documents pertaining to the case. "You can use this room as your base of operations," he said, and the two agents began to set up their gear.

* * *

Morgan and Rossi pulled up outside the Ranger's office at Piscataway Park to find the Ranger waiting for them. He greeted them as they stepped out of the SUV.

"You the gentlemen from the FBI?" he asked.

"Yes I'm Agent Rossi, this is Agent Morgan," the older man replied, shaking the Ranger's hand.

"John Tucker; Park Ranger. Well, shall I take you straight to the body?"

"Yes please," said Rossi.

The Ranger led them into the park, through some woods for about half a mile until they heard the sound of running water. The path then began to slope downwards, gently at first but getting steeper the nearer to the river they got. Finally they reached the bank which was cordoned off with a long line of yellow crime scene tape and ducked under it.

They immediately spotted the body which was floating in the shallows of a small inlet where the water's flow was interrupted and an accumulation of twigs, leaves and some litter swirled around it. A man had just finished examining the body and Tucker introduced them:

"Gentlemen, this is Doctor David Ambrose, the coroner. David, these are the agents from the BAU: Agents Rossi and Morgan." They shook hands with the coroner and began their questions.

"Can you determine the time of death?" Rossi asked.

"Well, I can say she's been in the water for approximately five hours but, given all the variables that water presents, I'd be reluctant to give you a ToD with any more accuracy than eight to fifteen hours ago."

"Does she exhibit the same type of injuries as the other victims?"

"Yes, the bruising on the face and body shows a timeline of a few days, plus the marks on the neck appear to be consistent with the previous victims but I'll have to measure the hand span when I get her back to the morgue."

"Of course," replied Morgan. "And she was found just like this – there's no evidence of her being weighted down and no attempt to hide her identity or keep her from being found?"

"None that I can determine at this stage. Of course, I'll let you know if I find anything to the contrary later."

The two agents thanked the coroner and conferred between themselves.

"So, he makes no attempt to hide what he's done or to whom," began Rossi. "He obviously doesn't care what happens to them after he's finished with them. They're disposable once he's had his fun."

"Yes, which means he probably has no personal connection to them," Morgan replied.

"And that's going to make our job that much harder."

* * *

It was getting late by the time the team reconvened back at the precinct to collate their findings. Reid and Prentiss had talked to the families of all the victims but had not found any connection between them, other than the first four all being similar in age and appearance.

"Are we absolutely sure that Tania Greyton was killed by the same unsub?" asked Prentiss, desperate for something – anything – to make sense in this case.

"Yes," replied Rossi. "The coroner has confirmed that the hand marks around each victim's neck was identical, including Tania's."

There was a pause while everyone took this information in and integrated it with what they already knew.

"Okay," began Hotch, taking the lead. "So we know that he targeted blonde women in their late thirties and then he switched to a brunette who was a number of years younger. There has to have been a trigger to have caused him to change his victimology like that: I don't think that's random."

"Well," said Rossi, his thoughts obviously forming just a little ahead of his mouth speaking them. "He's throwing them away when he's done with them; they're effectively garbage once they're of no use to him anymore so why be so picky in the first place?"

"The blondes definitely represented something or someone to him," added Reid. "It may be that he's devolving if that physical similarity doesn't hold any sway for him anymore."

"You know, he probably targeted those women specifically to begin with which would have meant a lot of time watching them," Morgan put in.

"Yes but none of the families or co-workers were able to remember anyone hanging around or any suspicious vehicles," was Reid's reply.

"And what about Tania Greyton?" asked Emily. "Did he watch her and target her specifically? Or was she taken on the spur of the moment?"

"Well, if he _is_ devolving, he could take just about anyone next time."

"And he'll also begin to lose sense of his timetable and may continue to abduct more women even after his customary two this time around," Emily finished, her eyes wide in shock.

"Yes," agreed Hotch. "And we don't have much time before he'll be onto his next victim."

* * *

**A/N: Okay, I'm not massively happy with that last scene but I felt something was needed there and couldn't hold this chapter up any longer so decided to go ahead and post it so we could all move forward – sorry everyone!**

**A/N 2: I have tried to be as accurate as I can with regards to the methods used by the BAU and the psychology of the killer but I only have an amateur's knowledge of these things so please forgive me any mistakes! I'm sure John Douglas would pick this apart in no time, LOL!**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 2

Two days later, it was after ten o'clock at night and Lizzie had spent the past four hours in Garcia's office, just as she had the last time the team were away, helping the analyst as she could. They had not gained any further information in the past couple of days and the whole team was becoming increasingly frustrated at their lack of progress, each fearing the looming deadline they were under – knowing that another victim could be abducted at any time – and yet thinking that the very thing they feared might be just what they needed to refine their relatively sketchy profile.

Now, mentally exhausted, Lizzie had been ordered home by her friend to get some rest. She was walking to her car as her phone rang.

"Hi," she answered.

"Hi honey." Hotch's silken voice instilled energy into her. "I just wanted to call and see how you were."

"I'm fine, if a bit tired. I'm just leaving the office now," she said.

"I thought you were leaving hours ago."

"Yeah but I couldn't bring myself to; I thought I could be of more use by staying. I think Garcia got sick of me though coz she practically frog-marched me out of the door just now." Hotch gave a short laugh. "How're you, babe?"

"I'm okay. There's nothing else we can do tonight so we've all come back to the hotel for some sleep too."

"Good," she said gently, "you sound like you need it."

"It's been a pretty full-on couple of days but I'm fine, honestly."

Lizzie approached her car and began searching in her bag for her keys, her phone tucked under her chin. "Don't try and fool me, lover, I _know_ when you're shagged out!"

He laughed again. "Having been the cause of said condition yourself on numerous occasions, I'll concede that point."

Lizzie walked around to the driver's side of her car. "And I hope to again, very soon," she purred.

The phone slipped out from under her chin and she reflexively ducked to try and save it. At that moment, she felt a searing pain on the top of her head and her vision flashed bright white, clearing only very slowly. She was then aware of a vice-like grip around her middle and a hand clamped over her mouth and nose and she realised she was being attacked. Instinctively, she bit hard on the hand, hearing a cry of pain from behind her. Her head was now free so she threw it back, hearing a satisfying crunch as her assailant's nose crumpled under her skull. The man couldn't have been much taller than herself but he was strong. She felt hot breath on her ear and a voice saying, "oh you are gonna pay for that!"

Her phone had skittered under her car and she desperately hoped it hadn't cut Hotch off. She shouted his name as loud as she could but then both arms were around her lower torso, the grip tightening painfully, and she could barely draw breath. She was being lifted off the ground and panic threatened to consume her; her head was splitting and she started to feel dizzy but she willed herself to think. Her car was still directly in front of her so she lifted her feet to brace them on it and pushed with all her remaining strength, shoving her attacker backwards to hit the side of a vehicle which was parked next to hers. The arms loosened slightly on impact but quickly regained their grip before Lizzie could slip out of their grasp. It had, however, allowed her time to breathe again and she shouted for help once more. She tried to stamp on the man's instep with her heel but missed and then she was being carried away from her car. She squirmed and kicked her legs, shouting, "get your fucking hands off me you fucking son of a bitch!" but the man just laughed and threw her into the back of a van. Lizzie tried to scramble out but he blocked the way. She caught a glimpse of something careering towards her, tried to dodge but wasn't fast enough. She felt again a blistering pain in her head; her vision swam and she fell, unconscious, to the floor of the van.

* * *

"And I hope to again, very soon," Lizzie said. Hotch smiled, removing his tie, and was about to reply when he heard a commotion on the other end of the line.

"Honey?" he asked after a moment. When she didn't reply he began to worry, and then he heard a man's voice shouting in surprise. "Lizzie!" he yelled into the receiver. Then he heard Lizzie shouting his name, calling for his help. "Lizzie!" he shouted again, as loud as he could. He ran to the door of his room and tore out into the corridor to find Rossi just stepping out of the room next door to see what all the noise was about. "Call Garcia," Hotch ordered him. "Lizzie's being attacked."

"What?" Rossi exclaimed in horror. Morgan and Reid had joined them in the corridor while Hotch kept his phone clamped to his ear. He heard a metallic thud and then Lizzie calling for him again.

"Call Garcia!" Hotch repeated desperately. "She's in the parking garage at the BAU. Get help!" Rossi immediately dialled Garcia's number and told the girl what was happening, telling her to get help down to the garage. Hotch then heard Lizzie swearing at her attacker but her voice sounded further away. There was another thud and the sound of a van door slamming. "Lizzie!" An engine started up on the other end of the line and the vehicle screeched off. Hotch sank to the floor of the corridor, staring at his phone in numb disbelief, and was only vaguely aware of Rossi giving out orders for the others.

He then felt a hand under his arm, lifting him from the floor. Rossi said, "come on," and led him back into his room. Hotch watched absently as his colleague bustled around the room, collecting his gear into his bag, saying in a calm, authoritative voice, "Morgan'll drive you back; Reid and Prentiss will follow in the other car. JJ and I'll join you in the morning after we've made arrangements here." Rossi handed him his bag and led him back out. They were joined by Morgan, Reid and Prentiss and quickly made their way out of the hotel.

* * *

Hotch sat staring, unseeing, out of the window while Morgan sped along the Interstate, the siren blaring, and went through every detail of what he'd heard over and over in his mind. He stubbornly rejected as unthinkable the possibility that Lizzie could be dead, despite the years of experience in the BAU telling him it was a real possibility. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Morgan worriedly glance at him every now and again and, after about twenty minutes of silence, Morgan tried to reassure him. "Hotch, it'll be okay. Lizzie'll be alright; she's tough." Hotch made no reply. "Hotch?"

He finally looked around and said quietly, "it's my fault."

"What?" Morgan was incredulous.

"I called her. She was walking to her car." His voice was cold and calm now, the initial shock having subsided. "Morgan, if she hadn't been talking to me, she would have been aware of her surroundings; she wouldn't have been distracted. She might have gotten away."

"Hotch, don't even go there," warned Morgan. "Right now, she needs you to keep it together." Hotch felt a wave of gratitude for his friends who had responded without hesitation and without question. "We'll get her back."

They spent the rest of the journey in silence and arrived in the parking garage of the BAU a few minutes later, pulling up some yards from Lizzie's car, Prentiss and Reid stopping in the space next to them a few moments later. They approached the knot of people surrounding the car. The CSIs were processing the scene; one of their number, a middle-aged, bow-legged man, introduced himself and told them what they had discovered.

"We found your colleague's purse on the ground and her cell phone underneath the car and we've taken photos and measurements of the tyre tracks here," he said, pointing at two curved, parallel black lines leading away from the scene. "We also found a couple of spots of blood which we'll get to the lab for processing. I'm sorry, there's no way to tell whose it is until we've tested it."

"Thank you," said Hotch detachedly.

They then proceeded up to their offices to see what Garcia may have found out.

"Oh Hotch," exclaimed the tech analyst in a fluster of remorse. "I'm so sorry, I should never have let her go out on her own."

"It's okay, Garcia," he replied. "You couldn't have known." With some effort, he had now regained his composure and was impatient to get on. "Do you have the security tapes from the garage?"

"Yes, I was just about to go through them," said Garcia, turning back to her screens and bringing up the footage. She skipped through to the correct time and began to watch, horror-struck, as the scene unfolded before them.

It felt surreal to Hotch, to be watching the digital image of Lizzie on the phone to him and he wanted to shout a warning when he saw the man approaching her. He silently cursed when he registered that the man was wearing a hood obscuring his face but then Lizzie was struck the first glancing blow and Hotch flinched, suddenly feeling sick. He stared at the screen in horrified fascination as Lizzie fought back in a ferocious but ultimately futile attempt. When they saw her head-butt the attacker's nose, Morgan exclaimed, impressed, saying "woah, that was a nice hit. I think she got him good there. You know, that blood the crime scene fellas found could well be this guy's."

Hotch agreed. "Garcia, I want you to run that DNA through every database you can think of when the lab's processed it." Penelope nodded her assent as they continued watching. When they saw the van pull away with Lizzie inside, Hotch continued with his instructions. "Can you try and clear up the image to get a number from the plate on the van?" Garcia nodded again, scribbling on her heart-shaped note pad with a pink pen which had a plastic bear on the end. "Get me a description of this guy's height and build and see if there's any point on that film where you can see his face."

* * *

Lizzie woke up and instantly wished she hadn't as her head suddenly screamed at her in pain. She kept her eyes closed until it subsided a little and then looked dazedly at her surroundings. She was in what seemed to be some sort of basement with an industrial feel to it rather than it being within a house. There was a single, high-level window with wired safety glass on one wall and a dull light was filtering through the grime encrusting it. This told her that it was daytime, but she had no idea what time it was, or indeed what day it was. It had been Wednesday night when she'd been attacked so was it now Thursday or had more time passed since then? She decided there was no point in worrying about that as she had no way of finding out at present; instead she concentrated on what she could deduce.

Most of the room was shrouded in gloom but of the little she could see, it was a large space and had the feel of abandonment about it: there were a couple of old window frames, their glass smashed out and their paint almost completely peeled away, propped against one wall, some broken tiles in a heap on the floor and similar such debris. There were steps leading up to a door and she gingerly stood up, feeling a wave of nausea, and began to walk over to it but was pulled back by her left arm. She looked down to discover a pair of handcuffs chaining her wrist to a ring on the wall. "What the–" she mumbled, beginning to feel a little scared. She tried pulling at the shackles but the ring was set fast.

She sat down again on the concrete floor and tried to recall how she had got to this place; she remembered speaking to Hotch on the phone as she walked down to the car park but, after she'd reached her car, there was a complete blank. She wondered where Hotch was and if he even knew she was being held prisoner like this – after all, he had been in Arlington and might not have finished up there or tried to call her since their last conversation.

Just then a loud rushing sound pierced the silence and Lizzie grabbed her ears in pain until it passed by. When she looked up again, a short, stocky man of middling years with blond hair and a swollen nose was standing in the open doorway at the top of the stairs; the noise outside had masked his entrance.

"Hello honey," he drawled and Lizzie's anger instinctively rose at this disgusting parody of Hotch's pet name for her. At the same time it occurred to her that she had heard that voice before and she felt her heart begin to race as adrenaline began to course through her body.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, getting back to her feet.

"Ooh you really are a live one, aren't you?" he said with malicious glee. "I'm gonna have to do something about that. You know, you were a very bad girl last night; look what you did to my nose." He pointed to his face and Lizzie felt a rush of triumph that she'd at least managed to hurt him. Also, he had just given her a timeline which could prove valuable.

"Why am I chained up here?" He ignored the question, instead advancing on her, a horrible leer twisting his features. Lizzie started to shout for help and the man just stood there, waiting for her to finish.

"You can scream as much as you like, girlie, no-one's going to hear you."

"Where have you brought me to?" Lizzie asked, contempt suffused into every syllable. Again, he declined to answer, instead striking her across the face, hurling her head to the side and redoubling the ringing in her ears. "You fucking coward," she sneered, turning back to him. He hit her again and this time Lizzie could taste blood in her mouth as her lower lip was crushed against her teeth. "You do realise that I work for the FBI, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, unconcerned.

"More specifically I'm the personal assistant to the chief of the BAU."

"Ah, don't sell yourself short. You're so much _more_ than that!"

Lizzie was taken aback at his tone. "What do you mean?" she snapped.

"You're not _just_ his PA are you?" Lizzie wondered who this man was and how he could know about her and Hotch. Evidently seeing the confusion in her face, he continued. "Oh I know all about you and Agent Hotchner," he said the name with a venom that gave Lizzie the clue she needed as to why she had been taken. The realisation that this was some sort of scheme for revenge just increased her contempt for the man. She kept quiet, however, allowing him to elucidate. "It was a surprise for me, actually," he said, pacing the room. "There was I, expecting him to go with type and pick another leggy blonde but then I see you on his arm." He looked her up and down, taking in her small frame and long, dark hair. "It was most inconvenient, you know – having wasted all that time on blondes when I could have been enjoying… the darker side." He chuckled at his perceived joke.

Realisation dawned on Lizzie. "You killed those women and dumped them in the Potomac."

"Clever girl," came the reply.

"But… why?"

The man laughed. "Oh they were just practice."

Lizzie was appalled; his indifference to the lives of those other women was palpable. "Practice?" He laughed again at her outrage. Lizzie knew that he planned to murder her too, otherwise he'd never be so forthcoming with this information. As it was, he could enjoy his gloating with impunity. She also knew that Hotch and the team would move heaven and earth to find her before that happened. She put her trust in that one fact and resolved to keep her head and not give up. She tried not to think about what he'd done to the others after he'd killed them. "You're sick!" She was baiting him deliberately in the hope that he would be angry enough to forego his more sadistic pastimes, but it also gave her a feeling of reckless gratification to mock him. "Do you honestly think that Hotch will just sit by and let you do to me what you did to those women?"

"No of course I don't," the man replied. He stretched out a hand to touch a lock of Lizzie's hair; disgusted, she whipped her head out of his reach. "But I look forward to telling him how you begged me to stop and cried out for him to save you but, ultimately, he failed."

"Oh come _on_!" Lizzie gave a short, sardonic laugh. "You're kidding me, right?" The man's face began to take on a reddish hue. "You think _you_ can get the better of him?" she put a disdainful emphasis on the word and laughed again. "You're pathetic!" She turned her back on him as well as she could.

It was working; the man flew into a rage. "Don't you turn away from me!" he shouted, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her head down and around. "You _are_ going to beg; you're going to cry and scream and howl and there's nothing your precious Agent Hotchner will be able to do about it." With that he balled up his fist and drove it into Lizzie's stomach.

"I'll never beg you for anything," Lizzie gasped and spat into his face. This enraged him even further and he began to rain blows on Lizzie who goaded him and snarled at him, doggedly refusing to cry out.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, some of you might be thinking that there are one or two similarities between this and what happened in the beginning of Season 5 but all I ask is that you remember that I began this story yonks before any of that was on the cards for the program so I had no idea that there would be any parallels!**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 3

The team had barely slept, each having collapsed, exhausted, at various times during the night. When Rossi and JJ arrived early the next morning, they sent Emily, Morgan and Reid home for a few hours. Hotch and Garcia refused to leave but briefed the newcomers on what they'd found out.

"The unsub is 5 foot 9," began Garcia, "about 185 pounds and drives a black, 2004 Chevy Astro van. I could only get a partial plate on the van but I'm running it through the DMV database to try and find its registered owner. Unfortunately there are a lot of hits so far and it's still going," she finished, giving Hotch an apologetic look.

"He probably has a broken nose or similar injury as Lizzie managed to hurt him," Hotch continued.

"Well done Lizzie," said Rossi.

"We found his blood on the garage floor but we couldn't identify him from the DNA as he's not in any police database. So far he hasn't made any ransom demands and…" He paused, then steeled himself. "Given that it's September, the fact that she was taken from a parking garage, and the type of van he drives… we're considering the possibility that this is the same unsub as the Arlington case."

"Yes, that is possible," commented Rossi. "Lizzie matches the description of his last victim – early thirties, small, brunette…"

Hotch felt as though he was trying to swallow gravel. "And that gives us only a couple of days to find her."

* * *

JJ quickly organised a press conference asking for a witness who drove a black Chevrolet van, appealing to friends and neighbours, saying that the owner of the vehicle might not know the significance of what they had seen.

During the morning they received sporadic information from the tip line that had been set up in preparation but, ultimately, all of these leads were dead-ends and, by the afternoon, they were no further along.

"Okay, let's recap on what we know," said Hotch to the team who had reconvened in the conference room.

"Well, we know he's a white male, in his thirties or forties, who drives a van and probably has a blue-collar job," Reid began the recap.

"He's organised and sticks to a set routine," Emily added, "only taking women in the month of September and disposing of them three days later. It must be some kind of anniversary for him."

"He seems to be primarily a thrill killer, given his long abstinence in between kills and the fact that he inflicts pain on them over a period of time," said Morgan. "And from where he leaves the bodies, we know that he sees these women as disposable – once they've fulfilled his purpose he has no more use for them."

Hotch's grip on his pen tightened until his knuckles were white. He took a sip of water to moisten his mouth and added: "two to three years ago he suffered a loss – a divorce or bereavement – which prompted him to start these killings, and he doesn't have a previous criminal record."

Just then there was a knock on the door and an operative entered, saying "Agent Hotchner, we have someone on the line asking to speak to you."

"Me personally?" Hotch asked.

"Yes."

Hotch, puzzled, indicated to the operative to put the call through, then picked it up saying, "this is Agent Hotchner."

"Hello Agent Hotchner," came the reply. "How is the investigation going?"

"Who is this please?"

"My name is not important," the voice replied.

"Do you have some information for me?"

"I do indeed," the man replied. "But I'm afraid she's not going to last much longer. You'll have to hurry." The voice was gloating, relishing the pain he knew he was causing.

Hotch felt a cold wave wash over him – this was the unsub! He hurriedly signalled to Morgan who knew instantly what should be done and called Garcia to put a trace on the call.

"Why is that?" asked Hotch, knowing that he must keep the man talking for as long as possible.

"Because I had to punish her."

"What for?"

"Oh I'm sure you've seen the security footage from the garage. Little bitch tried to fight me!" This last was said in anger but he quickly regained his mocking tone, "but I put a stop to that."

"Why did you take her?" He knew now that the motive for Lizzie's kidnap wasn't going to be the same as the others as the unsub had not made any contact with relatives or friends in the previous murders. For some reason, this was personal.

"Well," the man said with a small laugh, "that was _your_ punishment."

"_My_ punishment?" Hotch asked, his suspicions confirmed. The line went silent and he was afraid that the caller had hung up. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end changed, became businesslike and lost the mocking tone. "I'll call you again tomorrow at 11am after you've had time to reflect on what we've discussed."

This time the man did hang up and Hotch felt his legs give, only managing to keep himself upright by grabbing onto the desk in front of him.

"What did he say?" asked Morgan.

"He said he's punishing me," Hotch replied quietly.

"_You_?" Morgan was just as incredulous as Hotch had been on hearing this.

"He said taking Lizzie was my punishment."

"What for?" asked Rossi.

"I don't know."

* * *

The team began looking for anyone who would have a grudge against their leader. Garcia timidly informed him that the call had been made on a disposable cell phone so she was unable to trace it. She then searched doggedly through hundreds of records of felons that Hotch had helped to catch, even going as far back as his days as a prosecutor, but none of them fitted the profile, or matched up with the DMV records she had pulled up.

By early afternoon, Morgan, Rossi, JJ and Garcia were in the conference room, looking through stacks of files, and Morgan's curiosity eventually got the better of him.

"So did you guys know that Hotch and Lizzie were an item?" He looked around at the others. JJ shook her head but Garcia looked guilty.

"I had my suspicions," said Rossi sadly, "but they weren't confirmed until this happened."

"Penelope?"

Garcia looked timidly at him for a moment, then the words came rushing out of her mouth. "Okay, okay, yes I knew they were a couple!"

"How long?" Morgan demanded.

"How long have I known or how long have they been a couple?" Garcia asked for clarification.

Morgan was slightly taken aback. "Well… both I suppose."

"Well they've been together about four weeks; I found out the night Hotch was shot. Lizzie and I went out for a drink after you called us and I… sort of… guessed."

"And you never told us?"

"She made me promise!" said Garcia defensively.

"You know," Rossi began pensively, "we might be looking at this the wrong way." The fact that Hotch and Lizzie's relationship was now being discussed openly had triggered something. The others looked at him, curious. "Okay, we know this is personal for this unsub: he blames Hotch for some perceived wrong in his past. We assumed that he would be connected to someone that Hotch helped put away but isn't it odd that he should abduct Lizzie and not just take out his revenge directly on Hotch? I mean, what's been stopping him from just pulling out a gun and shooting him?"

"You mean that he's making Hotch go through whatever it was that happened to him?" asked Morgan.

"Yes. It's too precise, too specific, to not have a bearing on this. Hotch and Lizzie have only been a couple for – what was it, four weeks?" he looked at Garcia for her acknowledgement. "I think he's been waiting for Hotch to be in a relationship."

"So what you're saying," JJ wanted to clarify, "is that the unsub had a wife or girlfriend who was abducted and murdered herself?"

"Exactly. And remember how his victims changed: the first four were tall and blonde, just like Hayley. All of a sudden, Hotch is with a small brunette and the unsub has to alter his target."

Morgan looked sickened. "They were proxies. He was biding his time until he could hurt someone Hotch really cared about."

* * *

The man had eventually left Lizzie crumpled on the ground, her lip still bleeding, one of her eyes swollen shut and the whole of her battered body on fire. She had lain there, the cold, dusty floor providing no alleviation for her pain, telling herself over and over that Hotch would find her, saying it out loud, like a mantra.

After a while she had fallen into an uneasy sleep and woke a little later to a thin, watery light filtering through the window, highlighting the motes of dust in the room. She still couldn't open one eye and she could feel blood encrusted on her lip and down her chin, staining her white shirt. Her arm had been stuck at an awkward angle due to her shackles and she gingerly moved to a sitting position, causing her muscles to scream in protest.

Her mouth was parched but there was no hope of relief in that quarter: she doubted very much that the man would allow her anything to drink.

How long had she been here, she wondered. She racked her brain but just couldn't come up with a satisfactory answer; she couldn't know how much time she'd missed when she'd been knocked out.

One thing she did know, however, was that this man didn't hold his victims for more than a few days and the clock was very much ticking away.

* * *

Rossi and Garcia had gone to Hotch to tell him what he and the others had hit upon. Even though he hadn't slept in two days, Hotch felt a strange energy suffusing him; the prospect of actually having a lead to follow gave him the strength he needed.

"Garcia," he started, "can you find me all the cases I've worked on that match these circumstances?"

"Of course sir, but there's going to be a lot of them I'm afraid." They all headed towards Garcia's office, where the girl sat down at her screens and logged on.

"We're looking at September, probably 2006, and the woman would have been strangled and posthumously assaulted."

Garcia tapped away and promptly came up with the goods. "I have it," she said excitedly. "September, 2006. Three women were abducted and murdered in Milwaukee."

"What was the name of the last victim?"

"Sophia Bell, taken September 4th. Husband Fred Bell."

"And what's his–"

"Last known address…" Garcia was already there. "Is 1247 Old Dominion Drive, Chesterbrook, Arlington!"

* * *

**A/N: So – whaddya think? Reviews are the best way of letting me know…**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N OMG, I can't believe how long it's been since I last updated this story! I'm SO sorry to keep you all hanging there! Hopefully there are one or two of you left out there who are still interested in my little fic!**

**Firstly, this chapter has been killing me for a while – I just couldn't get it to flow properly. Also, I've been spending the last few weeks training my replacement for when I go on maternity leave and, as I do most of my writing at work, it's been difficult to find time to look at this, to say the least! Anyway, only 9 days of work left until I leave now (woo hoo!) and less than four weeks until I'm due so everything's going to change after that – I'll **_**have**_** to do my writing from home then!**

**Right, enough excuses, on with the conclusion of Part 2…**

* * *

_From the last chapter:_

_"Garcia," he started, "can you find me all the cases I've worked on that match these circumstances?"_

_"Of course sir, but there's going to be a lot of them I'm afraid." They all headed towards Garcia's office, where the girl sat down at her screens and logged on._

_"We're looking at September, probably 2006, and the woman would have been strangled and posthumously assaulted."_

_Garcia tapped away and promptly came up with the goods. "I have it," she said excitedly. "September, 2006. Three women were abducted and murdered in Milwaukee."_

_"What was the name of the last victim?"_

_"Sophia Bell, taken September 4th. Husband Fred Bell."_

_"And what's his–"_

_"Last known address…" Garcia was already there. "Is 1247 Old Dominion Drive, Chesterbrook, Arlington!"_

* * *

Chapter 4

Hotch, Prentiss and Reid approached the front of the house while Rossi and Morgan covered the back. Hotch kicked the door in and proceeded into the hallway, his gun held in both hands. The three of them proceeded through the house, clearing each room as they went. After the first few rooms, however, Hotch began to feel anxious: he had felt sure that he would find Lizzie here but if this turned out to be a dead end he didn't know where he would turn next.

Morgan's shout from the back yard made him tear through the house in that direction. The young agent was standing in the doorway of what looked to be a shed or workshop, holding something in his hand.

"This is our guy alright," said Morgan, showing Hotch a photo of him and Lizzie walking out of a market – the one they had visited on their first weekend together – they were holding hands and Lizzie was looking up at him and laughing. The memory came to him instantly; they had wandered around the market, buying food for the weekend and, as they were leaving, he'd said something to make her laugh. He couldn't even remember what it was that had made her face shine like the stars. "There's more in here." Hotch looked up at Morgan, slowly registering the other man's presence, then pushed past him into the cabin.

He was surrounded. All about him, looking down from every wall, were pictures of himself and Lizzie… sitting outside at that cute little café in DC; enjoying dinner on their 'first date'; doing everyday things like walking to the car together or climbing the steps to Hotch's apartment. Then Hotch saw some shots of them at the beach and felt sickened. The realisation that the unsub had been watching them while they were with his son and he had had no idea of it made him feel an anger that surprised him in its voracity.

It occurred to him that Jack had never been the target but that didn't make Hotch feel any better. It prompted the realisation that the unsub was trying to destroy Hotch's future, otherwise he would have just gone after Hayley and Jack. Of course Hayley was still in his life – you don't wipe out twenty years just like that – but she was his past; whereas Lizzie represented his life to come. That's what the unsub was looking to extinguish.

His anger crystallised at the thought. For three years, since Hayley had left, he had not even thought about the future; his focus had been entirely on the BAU and Jack, on the rare weekends he was able to be with this son. The past few weeks with Lizzie, though, had opened up a whole new world for him – a world where he could be happy and where, he hoped, he could make someone else happy. He'd felt as though a veil had been lifted, one that he hadn't even realised had been there.

This Fred Bell was trying to take all that away from him and he wasn't going to allow it. Simple as that. Bell would be stopped.

* * *

When they returned to the BAU, Strauss was waiting in Hotch's office and his heart sank even further: her visits usually spelled aggravation for him and he really didn't have the patience for any bureaucratic crap just then, not after their failure at Bell's residence. Nevertheless, he knew he would have to at least listen to what she had to say so he indicated the chair in front of his desk and took his own place behind it.

"I know I'm probably the last person you wanted to see in your office, Agent Hotchner, but there are a few things I need to clarify with regards to Ms Gardner."

Hotch was not a little surprised at Strauss' perception and felt contrite for his initial reaction to her presence. Maybe they could get past their differences after all.

"Firstly," Strauss continued, "I would like to offer my regrets for Ms Gardner's current predicament. I know you value her highly as your PA but I understand that she may be more to you than that now and I wanted you to know that my sympathies are with you."

Surprise had now turned into amazement and it must have shown on his face as Strauss smirked and continued, "I am human too, Agent." Her face then turned serious again. "However, I am concerned that you and your team are too close to this investigation to give it the objectivity it needs."

"Ma'am, I –"

Strauss held up her hand to silence Hotch's interruption and he slammed his mouth shut, his jaw clenched in sudden anger and his eyes flashing dangerously.

"I know that, even if I were to order you to drop this case, you would find a way to disregard my instructions. With that in mind, I will be overseeing your progress." She paused to let that sink in. "I will not hinder you in any way as long as I feel the investigation is being conducted in the correct manner. So I will be keeping a close eye on you and the team. That will be all," she concluded before sweeping out of the room.

Interesting, Hotch thought, not entirely sure if he had heard correctly, but after a mental shake, he concluded that he didn't have time to ponder the dark and twisted corridors of Section Chief Strauss' psyche and went back to work.

* * *

The phone rang and Hotch, who had been staring intently at it for the past ten minutes, felt a thrill of relief. The team had returned from Bell's house with boxes of evidence and had been searching through it ever since but nothing had given them the clue they needed to find where he was keeping Lizzie. Now, it seemed, their only option was to rely on what he could get out of Bell himself. He answered after a couple of rings and heard that mocking voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello Agent Hotchner. Have you thought about our conversation yesterday?"

"Yes," he replied.

"And have you come to any conclusions?"

"Yes."

"And what would they be?"

"That, following the kidnap and murder of your wife, Sophia, in September 2006, you were unable to deal with the reality of it and so projected the blame onto me for not finding her in time. That, since then, you've been planning your revenge by taking from me what was taken from you. And that, on the anniversary of your wife's death in each subsequent year, you tortured and murdered six innocent women for the sole reason that they resembled people I care about."

"I'm impressed, Agent Hotchner. I didn't think you'd make the connection so quickly."

"I've been to your house, Mr Bell. I know that you've been following Lizzie and me–"

"Yes, I was beginning to wonder if you'd actually figure it–"

"Where are you holding her?" he interrupted.

"Well now, that would spoil all the fun if I told you, wouldn't it?"

"Tell me you son of a bitch!" Hotch was icily calm inside but knew what Bell wanted – to hurt and anger him – so he had decided to give the man what he wanted and he hoped that, in return, Bell would make a mistake and reveal something he didn't intend.

"Now now, Agent Hotchner, no need to be rude."

"If you do _anything_ to her," Hotch ramped up the anger in his voice, "so help me god, I'll hunt you to the ends of the Earth. I'll tear you to pieces, Bell."

"Well," said Bell, "it's a little late for that. You know, she can take quite a lot for such a small person: the others gave up way before now. You know, you picked a good one, Agent Hotchner; shame you won't get a chance to appreciate that now."

"No!" Hotch yelled. "You bastard, I'll kill you!"

His plan had been good; Bell laughed at Hotch's feigned anger, saying, "I tell you what, I'll let you speak to her one last time. You know, say your goodbyes…"

Hotch heard a door opening and closing, then Bell's footsteps as he walked down a wooden staircase.

* * *

Lizzie was sitting on the floor of her prison, her bruised legs stretched out in front of her, her head down, eyes staring at her hands without seeing them. She looked up wearily when she heard the door open to see the man approaching, holding a phone in his hand.

"It's for you-hoo," he sang sarcastically. Lizzie stood up slowly and reached out to take the handset but it was snatched away from her reach. "Uh, uh. It's on speaker." He held it out for her to speak into.

Wary of what the man was up to, Lizzie nevertheless said "hello?" tentatively in the direction of the handset.

"Lizzie?" It was Hotch's voice on the other end. Lizzie thought she had never heard anything so beautiful. She also knew she must keep her head clear, try to read any signals he might give her.

"Hotch!"

"Honey, are you okay?"

"Babe, it's so good to hear your voice."

"Are you hurt?"

"Nothing I can't handle," she replied, looking straight into her abductor's eyes. Looking away again, she said, "babe, tell me that you'll wait for me; hold me like you'll never let me go."

"I will, I promise, honey. I'm gonna get you out of there, okay?" He paused. "I love you." Tears pricked Lizzie's eyes at those three words but she blinked them back, determined not to let the man see.

"I love you too, babe," she replied, stubbornly keeping her voice level. "But I don't know when I'll be back again." She sensed that the man was about to end their conversation. "Oh babe, I hate to go." She had been right as the man pressed a button on the phone and put it to his ear.

"How very touching, Agent Hotchner. But you really shouldn't get her hopes up like that, you know. You won't find her until I want you to find her." With that he hung up. He turned back to Lizzie, putting the phone in his back pocket, and muttered: "nothing you can't handle, eh? Perhaps I haven't been trying hard enough."

Lizzie knew she was in for another beating, and probably a worse one than she'd endured already, but she didn't care. Hotch and the team were on their way – she knew it – and he'd said he loved her; he wouldn't have said it without meaning it, she reasoned, even to keep her from giving up – it just wasn't something Hotch would do.

She would separate herself from this so that, when Hotch came to get her, she wouldn't really be hurt: cuts and bruises and broken bones could be healed and she knew the pain wouldn't be that bad as long as she focussed on Hotch. He was her anchor and she would shut everything else out.

She smiled sadly at the man as he took his belt off and began to wrap one end around his fist. When the blows came, she didn't cower, not even when the buckle crashed onto her skull, drawing blood that began to run down her face to drip off her jaw onto her clothes. She just stood, resolutely keeping her eyes on the man, her mood turning fey.

* * *

Hotch put the phone back on the receiver and turned his back on the room. He hadn't gained anything from the conversation. He felt hollow, as if Bell had taken a spoon and scooped out his insides. He had promised Lizzie that he would hold her again but he had no idea how he could possibly keep that promise. He wondered why he had waited until he probably wouldn't see her again before telling her he loved her. Reid began humming a tune and he wanted to tell the boy to shut the hell up but couldn't get his mouth to work.

"What's that you're singing, Reid?" asked Prentiss.

"Hotch," said Reid, "I think Lizzie might have given us a clue." His voice was tentative, the way it got when Reid's problem-solving mind was working hard. Hotch slowly turned back to the team, a tiny seed of hope trying to germinate somewhere deep in his stomach. "Those words: 'tell me that you'll wait for me, hold me like you'll never let me go,' I know them." He continued reciting the words to himself: "'don't know when I'll be back again'… 'oh babe, I hate to go.' Yes that's it!" he exclaimed, waving his hands in excitement. "It's a John Denver song!"

"John Denver?" asked Rossi, incredulous.

Prentiss picked up the baton then: "'tell me that you'll wait for me, hold me like you'll never let me go, cause I'm _leavin' on a jet plane_, don't know when I'll be back again, oh babe I hate to go!' That's the line she missed out: 'leavin' on a jet plane'!"

Reid's mind must already have made the next leap as he pressed the intercom button on the phone and Garcia's voice sounded: "what can I do, guys?"

"Garcia, can you take the recordings of both telephone calls and isolate any background noise for me?" asked Reid.

"'Course I can, Junior G-man, what are you looking for?"

"Lizzie may have given us a clue: I'm thinking that you might find aircraft noise in those tapes."

"I'm on it," Garcia's voice had inherited Reid's urgency and she hung up immediately to get to work.

"What are you saying, Reid?" asked Hotch, folding his arms protectively across his chest, feeling as though he'd break apart otherwise.

"Lizzie's language structure and syntax were off slightly: that's what put me onto it. I'm thinking she used the word 'babe' a few times to hide its occurrence in the last line of the chorus so that Bell wouldn't get suspicious."

Hotch considered not saying anything but knew that they had to be absolutely sure they were on the right track and so decided to bite the bullet: "but… that's what she calls me all the time. It's kind of her pet name for me." He was a little embarrassed admitting this to the team, their faces all turned to him, and half-expected a couple of sniggers and some cheesy comment, at least from Morgan, but of course they didn't do that – they knew how serious this was. Nevertheless he didn't look at any of them as he continued, "are you sure you've got this right, Reid?"

Reid deflated a little but soon regained his confidence. "Yes, I'm sure. It doesn't matter that she calls you that; in fact it's even more convincing if she could say it naturally. But why would she recite those words if it wasn't a message? I think she deliberately missed out that line because that was the line she wanted us to concentrate on." He punctuated his words with this finger.

Hotch was beginning to allow himself to think that they might actually do this but then another doubt occurred to him: "so you think that she can hear airplanes and she was trying to tell us that?"

"Exactly."

"But there are two commercial airports in DC, not to mention any number of smaller private airfields. How will we know which is the right one?"

"That's true, but if Garcia can isolate the aircraft noise, she may be able to tell us whether they're light aircraft or larger jets from the sound frequency. At least that'll narrow it down."

"Hold on," Prentiss interrupted. "Wherever he's got Lizzie hidden, it must be somewhere that's unpopulated, or at least only accessible or known to him, otherwise someone would have found it long ago: he's been using this site for years."

"Yeah, so it's gotta be an abandoned building or something that's close to a working airport," agreed Morgan.

The intercom rang then and Hotch pressed the button, saying "what can you tell us, Garcia?"

"I have it." Her voice was excited now. "Listen to this." They then heard the unmistakeable sound of an aeroplane flying overhead.

"Garcia, can you narrow down the type of aircraft that is from the sound frequency?" asked Reid.

"Not only can I narrow it down, Doctor," said Garcia, "but I can tell you how far away it is and how high too. I'll also check flight records for all the airports in the area and cross reference them against the times the calls were made."

"Also, can you look deeper into Bell's life – we're thinking he must have access to a building or somesuch close to, or even within, an airport."

"Wilco. Over." Garcia was always happiest and most productive when she had a complicated and technical task ahead of her so Hotch didn't mind her suddenly reverting to her usual quips.

* * *

Lizzie slowly regained consciousness and fought to stay awake. Her heart was hammering inside her chest and the blood was rushing in her ears but she knew she mustn't fall back into the darkness; not this time. What it was that had produced this reaction in her body, she couldn't quite remember but she felt it was imperative that she retain her lucidity.

She slowly began to regain awareness of her body. She was lying on one side, facing the wall, her chained arm wrenched up at an awkward angle, her hand hanging from the shackles. There were deep cuts on that hand and wrist where she had tried to free herself and the blood had dripped down to her elbow and was sticking the sleeve of her shirt to her arm. She carefully manoeuvred herself to a sitting position, every muscle feeling as though it was being torn from her body, until at last her shoulder didn't feel as though it was being twisted out of its socket.

She sat for a moment, her eyes closed, in order to regain her breath, then tried to open her eyes but found that only one would open and she gingerly reached up to touch her face. Her right eye was so swollen that the lid wouldn't budge and she felt blood caked on her forehead and cheek. She then looked down at herself to see a patchwork of red swellings and purple welts covering any visible skin and guessed that she would find the same over much of her body.

She suddenly feared the look of pain she knew she would see in Hotch's eyes when he came to save her and tried to lick her fingers and wipe some of the blood away but found she didn't have any spit. She rested her head back against the wall and thought of him. _Hotch. I love you. Please come soon._

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of a loud banging above. Again, her heart began thumping against her ribs and her head went fuzzy as she heard thundering footsteps on the floorboards and what she could have sworn was the sound of someone shouting "clear!" Surely that could only be an assault team. They had come! They had found her! She tried to shout but all that came out of her desiccated throat was a wheeze. She rattled her chains against the wall but the din above probably drowned out any noise she made.

Just then, the door to her prison clanged open and Lizzie, expecting to see Hotch in an FBI vest worn over his shirt, recoiled when she saw it was her attacker. This time, instead of the sardonic man she was used to receiving down here, he looked livid and perhaps even a little bit panicked. He closed and locked the door behind him, jumped down the steps three at a time and stormed over to her. He took a fistful of Lizzie's hair and yanked her painfully to her feet, then doubled up his other fist to slam it into her stomach. He continued raining blows on her until she fell again to the ground, then started kicking her, all the while roaring incoherently.

Suddenly Lizzie was aware that he had stopped. She dared not remove her arms which she had wrapped protectively around her head, until she heard another voice. She had not heard the crash as they broke through the locked door, or the shout that must have grabbed the man's attention but that didn't matter to Lizzie.

"Bell, get away from her." It was Hotch! Happiness and relief flowed through her whole body, making her forget any pain, and she looked up at her saviour. He was standing halfway down the stairs, holding his gun with both hands, pointed towards her captor. Three other agents were entering the room behind him, each of them pointing their weapons in the same direction. "Bell. Step away from her. RIGHT NOW!" He bellowed this last at the man whilst edging down the remainder of the stairs. Lizzie slowly stood up on shaking legs, determined to be strong right to the end.

"Or what, Agent Hotchner? You'll kill me?" He laughed, grabbing Lizzie by the throat and using her as a shield.

"Bell, I have a gun pointed at your head. Let her go or a bullet will be in your brain before you can take another breath."

"Hotch, are you sure you have the shot?" Morgan asked, nervous.

"Yes, Agent Hotchner. You don't want to get the hostage killed now, do you?"

Lizzie was rooted to the spot, immobile not only due to Bell's large hand around her neck but also in fear that any movement on her part would damage Hotch's chances of making the shot. His loathsome body was pressed against her back but she kept her eyes steady on Hotch, trying to convey her trust in him. The pressure on her throat was beginning to tell on her though as Bell began to squeeze and she was finding it more and more difficult to draw air.

"Let her go," Hotch warned again.

Lizzie could feel the blood pounding in her head and her lungs begin to burn from lack of oxygen and suddenly feared that she could die right in front of her rescuers. She tried to keep the panic from her eyes but knew that time was running out.

"I'm giving you one last chance, Bell. Let her go RIGHT NOW!"

The man just laughed and tightened his grip even more. Lizzie's vision began to swim and she heard a loud bang that echoed around the room and in her head. She winced at the noise before collapsing to the floor.

END OF PART TWO

* * *

**A/N: Sorry to leave you on a bit of a cliffie there. I promise I won't leave it as long before posting the next chapter, which will be the beginning of Part 3. I already have it mostly written so it's just a matter of filling in a few gaps and doing a bit of polishing.**

**Let me know what you thought by pressing that little button below…**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hello? Is there anybody there? *Echoes* Only kidding, a few of you have been kind enough to send me your encouragement to continue with this story whether that was by reviewing or favouriting and I am truly grateful for your support. Please know that I have always intended to continue but since my daughter was born, I've found it increasingly difficult to work on my PC for any length of time which means that I just couldn't get into writing again, but my lovely hubby bought me a fantastic little netbook for Christmas and now I can write wherever I am – Yay! Also, as you will see below, this chapter has been incredibly hard for me to write... but I won't give anything away here. Before you get to that, I thought you might like a little recap just to remind yourselves what story you're reading!**

RECAP:

Lizzie has worked as Hotch's PA for three years, both being attracted to the other all that time but neither allowing themselves to think about pursuing a relationship until one day when Hotch walks in on Lizzie when she's naked in the shower. Garcia knows about their budding relationship, having found out shortly after they first got together, however none of the rest of the team know at first, although Rossi guesses shrewdly that there is something going on.

The team is called away on a case where women have been kidnapped, beaten and killed on particular dates over a period of a couple of years; the first victims were all tall blondes in their late thirties but the latest was a younger brunette. One evening, after having stayed at the Bureau late with Garcia, Lizzie is walking to her car when she is attacked while talking on the phone to Hotch. She drops her phone and is bundled into the back of a van and taken away. Hotch hears the attack on the phone and blames himself for distracting Lizzie when she should have been aware of her surroundings. The team rush back to Quantico and begin their investigation, quickly coming to the realisation that Lizzie's abduction is linked to those they were already investigating, that the whole case is centred on a vendetta against Hotch and the victims resembled the women in his life (the earlier ones representing Hayley and the brunette, Lizzie). Garcia manages to find the details of the original case, in which the unsub's own wife was murdered, and the team storm the unsub's house, finding a sort of shrine to Hotch's movements, proving that the unsub had been following him and Lizzie for some time.

Back at the BAU, the unsub calls the tipline, asking to speak to Hotch. After a little taunting, the phone is handed to Lizzie who has already endured several beatings. She manages to give the team a clue as to her whereabouts and Hotch shoots the unsub just as he is administering another beating to the helpless Lizzie.

PART 3

Chapter 1

Hotch shifted uncomfortably in the plastic chair next to Lizzie's bed for the thousandth time but didn't get up. He had already paced the room and looked, unseeing, out of the window and had returned to his seat to watch for any signs of her waking. He had stayed with her since he had found her in that dingy basement, travelling to the hospital in the back of the ambulance with her and hovering just outside the door of her room as the doctors tended to her wounds. As soon as they had let him back in, he had flatly refused to leave the room, even when Rossi had come and practically shouted at him to go home and get some sleep.

But he'd slept right here at Lizzie's side, albeit fitfully, and woken to find her just as she had been when he had closed his eyes. She didn't move or let out a murmur in her drug-induced sleep; all that told him she was still alive were the heart monitor beeping monotonously and the steady rise and fall of her breast.

The swelling had gone down in her eye but it was still red and bruised; there was a cut on her lip and another on her forehead which were hidden beneath gauze bandages. Her left arm was encased in a plaster cast, having been fractured in two places, and he knew that, beneath the bedcovers, her body was covered in bruises.

She looked so tiny lying there, like a child, helpless and fragile, and this was probably the biggest shock to Hotch as he sat staring at her. Yes, she was small in stature but she had always made up for it with her irrepressible personality, her ebullient humour and her indomitable strength.

As these thoughts were swimming through his mind, her eyes opened slowly and he watched, breathless, as she focussed on him with some difficulty. When her vision had adjusted she smiled weakly and whispered, "you need a shave."

It was so unexpected that Hotch couldn't help barking out a laugh. He put a hand to his chin, feeling the stubble, and replied, "I guess I do."

"How long have I been here?" she asked.

"Two days."

"And how long have _you_ been here?"

Hotch regarded her for a moment, then repeated quietly "two days." Lizzie regarded him with a mixture of disbelief, gratitude and exasperation and he continued, "you didn't think I could have left you here, do you?"

"I don't imagine so, no. Even though you should have done." Her cracked lips twitched into another smile but her eyes conveyed all her feelings to him.

Lizzie's right hand was lying on top of the covers and Hotch gently took it in his own, fearful of causing her more pain but needing to have a connection to her. She whispered a barely audible "thank you" and he kept his gaze on her face as she once again succumbed to the sedatives and drifted back into sleep.

~oOo~

Lizzie was discharged the following evening and, at first, all Hotch could think was to take her back to his apartment where he could take care of her. She smiled bravely as he helped her from the car and, once they were inside, he sat her on the sofa while he went to make them both a soothing cup of tea, then joined her in the living room and put some gentle music on the stereo. Lizzie immediately went to snuggle up to him and he lay back, gingerly put his arm around her, fearful of hurting her, as she leaned against his body, her warmth, as always, radiating through him.

He kissed the top of her head and, for the first time in he couldn't remember how long, he allowed himself to relax: the woman he loved was back, safe, in his arms. He could feel the heat of her hand through his clothes as it rested on his ribcage and could smell the scent of her hair as her head settled on his shoulder, his lips lingering on the silky tresses. Her body pressing against his and her leg draped over one of his; the feel of her small waist under his hand: all sensations that he savoured now he could experience them again, having feared that he never would.

They dozed for a while in contented companionship, each one taking solace from the refuge of the other's embrace. Hotch woke some time later to find that the sun had gone down and they were in darkness.

"Lizzie?" he said softly, stroking her hair back from her face, and she responded with a sleepy query. He hated to disturb her rest but knew she must eat something to keep her strength up. "Are you hungry?" to which she replied in the affirmative. "What would you like me to make you?" he asked, hoping she didn't request anything too complicated as his cooking skills weren't exactly a match for hers.

After a pause, she lifted her head from his chest and said, "I'd love some beans on toast if that's okay."

"I think I can handle that," said Hotch with a smile as they both rose from their recumbent positions. "No, you stay there, I'll bring it to you in a bit."

They ate in silence and when they were finished and the plates were cleared away, Lizzie led him straight to the bedroom and began to fumble at his belt with her one good hand.

"Lizzie," Hotch took her hand in his, stopping her movements. "This isn't such a good idea –"

"Yes it is," she interrupted. "I need to feel you again."

"But you've been in hospital, Lizzie."

"We made love when you'd been shot," Lizzie retorted, snatching her hand out of his grasp.

"Yes but I hadn't been unconscious for two days and I only had the one wound." He almost began to say how lucky she was not to have worse injuries than she did when he saw the pain in her eyes and held his tongue. Instead, he gently cupped her face in his hands, saying, "Lizzie, believe me, there's nothing I would like more but you need to rest."

"I'm not tired at all right now." Before he could give any more reasons, Lizzie continued, "Babe, the last touch my body remembers was violent. I need to feel good again. Please... make love to me."

He looked at her in indecision for a moment, searching her eyes for the truth, before gently pressing his lips to hers and Lizzie resumed undoing Hotch's belt. His hands went to the buttons of her top while his mouth continued to caress hers. His touch was feather-light as he ghosted Lizzie's shirt over her shoulders and down her arms. It had been too uncomfortable for a bra so when Hotch lifted the camisole over her head, one hand immediately gravitated to her bare breast, his thumb brushing over her already taut nipple, pulling a moan from deep within her chest.

They quickly disposed of any remaining clothing and were soon writhing in each other's grasp, their lips still locked and their hands exploring all the flesh they could find. Hotch remained conscious of Lizzie's bruises and abrasions but, just like her, he also felt the need to reconnect in the most intimate way. She backed up, towing Hotch along with her and, when her legs hit the bed, she pulled him down on top of her.

There was no messing around as Lizzie wrapped her hand around his length and Hotch hissed when she ran her thumb over the engorged head, spreading the drop of moisture that had pooled at the tip. Lost in each other's eyes, Lizzie guided him to her entrance and he eased into her slick warmth, both unable to contain their moans as he filled her completely.

Hotch began stroking in and out slowly, drawing his cock out until only the head remained inside Lizzie's dripping pussy, then smoothly thrusting all the way back in again and Lizzie could feel every glorious inch stretching her. After a while, he added a little twist of his hips at the end of each thrust and ground his groin into her clit, sending spasms of pleasure shooting through her every fibre and soon she felt herself on the brink of that glorious abyss. Her hands wandered down to his bum and gripped it tight, her fingers indenting the firm flesh, forcing him even deeper inside her until his thrusts sped up and became erratic and Lizzie knew he was close. Unable to hold back any longer, Lizzie was thrust over that cliff in a shower of sparks, his name on her lips as her body quivered and her walls contracted around his cock, sending Hotch over the edge a moment later.

He continued to rock his hips into her for a while longer, then his lips met hers again for a long moment before he pulled out and fell on the bed beside her. Lizzie snuggled up to his body and soon they were both slumbering peacefully.

~oOo~

Hotch took the rest of the week off work and was attentive and anxious to help Lizzie in any way he could. He had insisted that she stay at his apartment instead of going back to her own and had fallen over himself to help her heal as fast as possible.

They spent their time relaxing, watching old movies and talking about anything but their ordeal: it was still too raw for both of them just then so they both avoided the subject altogether. Hotch made himself available to the team via phone but felt he needed to be around for Lizzie. Lizzie's bruises began to fade and she became increasingly irritated with the cast on her left arm.

He didn't say anything to Lizzie but Hotch was filled with remorse for his weakness in giving in to her advances. _Fuck_, he thought for the umpteenth time as he stared at his laptop, a half-written email to Strauss open on the screen. She had been out of the hospital for less than 24 hours after a three-day ordeal, culminating in the death the unsub right before her eyes, and all he could think about was his dick. He was disgusted with himself; his lack of control. Yes, she had been the one to initiate the act, had practically begged for it, but that was still no excuse, he admonished himself. Thank god she had been able to reach completion herself, he thought; he was aware that a trauma like the one Lizzie had been through often led to problems in that area. _Not my Lizzie_, he thought, a little pride blooming in his chest. Time alone could prove it but he felt that she could well be considerably stronger than he ever thought.

If only the same could be said of himself.

~oOo~

On Hotch's first day back at work, Lizzie was determined not to sit around moping, no matter how much that seemed like a nice idea, so the first thing she did was to call her brother. She felt a little guilty that she hadn't spoken to him since before she and Hotch first got together but she knew that he was aware of what had happened to her so she felt she should let him know she was okay.

"Hello?" came the answer after a couple of rings.

"Hey bro, it's Lizzie," she said, trying to at least start the conversation on an upbeat note.

"Shit, Lizzie, how are you?"

"I'm okay, Paul... Well, my left arm is in a cast but that's just more irritating than painful. My ribs are still a bit sore and I'm no longer black and blue – more a sickly yellow colour – so I guess you could say I'm on the mend!"

"God, I'm so sorry I can't be there for you, but Hank's father died a few weeks ago and he's been down in Florida with his mom and sisters." Hank was Paul's business partner – the two of them owned a bookstore together.

"Hon, don't worry about it. I'm sorry to hear about Hank's dad. How are you handling the store without him?"

"Oh it's fine, a little hectic but that's not important right now. Lizzie don't change the subject on me, how are you doing really?"

Lizzie knew he wasn't asking after her physical injuries this time and she never was any good at deflecting her brother. "I'm fine," she said after a short pause. "A little shaken up and seriously thinking of avoiding all underground car parks in the future but honestly, I think I'm going to be okay. Hotch is taking good care of me and Penelope does victim counselling so I'm sure I'll be baring my soul to her someday soon!"

"Lizzie, are you sure you don't want me to drive down to you?"

"No, honestly Paul, I'm good. You can't close up the shop and, like I said, Hotch is taking care of me right now. Thanks for offering though."

"Well if you change your mind, you just let me know, okay, little sister?"

"Sure."

"Speaking of, how come I have to find out you have a new boyfriend from your boss, of all people? And that said boyfriend _is_ your boss?" Lizzie knew the teasing would come at some point and chuckled; her brother always made her smile.

"Believe me, that's not exactly the way I had planned on telling you, hon," she said with a wry laugh. "I'm sure that wasn't an awkward conversation at all, eh?" she added ironically.

"Ha! I think we both agreed that women are contrary creatures which we will never fully understand," Paul riposted. "Anyway, I know how highly you've spoken of him before so I guess you have my blessing."

"As if you could do anything about it if you didn't approve," Lizzie teased back.

"Careful girlie, I'm not above driving down there and telling your new boyfriend about a certain ballet recital..."

"You wouldn't!" Lizzie exclaimed.

"Or perhaps he'd like to hear about the time you asked your soccer coach on a date – now _that_ was funny!" _Oh shit_, Lizzie thought, the threat of embarrassing stories is never one a sibling can evade. "And I'm sure he'd be _very_ interested in your apparent fascination with authority figures."

"I do _not_ have a fascination with authority figures," Lizzie declared.

"Well, first you go after your soccer coach, now you're dating your boss..."

"Two events in my life separated by nearly fifteen years! God, why am I even arguing with you anyway?"

"Because you love it!" Paul's voice was a perfect blend of smugness and affection and Lizzie realised how much she missed her big brother. Apparently he was thinking the same thing because he voiced a hope Lizzie had only just allowed herself. "Listen, when Hank is back from Florida and everything's a little more settled here, I'll come down for a few days, okay? We can have some brother/sister time."

"Sounds great, hon."

"Listen, I'd better go but you take care of yourself, okay sis?"

"Okay, you too. Say hi to Terri and the kids for me. Love you."

"Love you too. 'Bye."

Tears pricked Lizzie's eyes as she hung up but she didn't want to go down that road right now – after all, he promised he'd come down to Washington for a visit so she'd be seeing her big brother soon and that was something good to think about.

It was still early and Lizzie was feeling a little antsy so she set about doing a little light cleaning. She didn't care that Hotch probably paid someone to clean his apartment for him, it was the least she could do seeing as she was staying with him sort-of indefinitely it seemed.

Once she'd thoroughly cleaned the kitchen (worktops, refrigerator, sink, floor...), she moved into the bathroom and then vacuumed the whole apartment. When that was done, she had to admit that she'd exhausted herself and it was only two in the afternoon: at least three hours – probably more – until Hotch would be leaving the office.

Taking a shower, yet again impeded by her cast, Lizzie nevertheless managed to clean herself, albeit somewhat ponderously; even with the waterproof covering she had for her arm, it was amazing how difficult she found it. She went to lay down on the bed and knew no more until she felt the side of the bed depress as Hotch sat on it and his hand stroked her hair.

"Hey babe," she breathed sleepily with a smile.

"You exhausted yourself today, didn't you?" he asked rhetorically.

"I guess I did. I just didn't want to sit around all day doing nothing." _Waiting for you to come home, _she added in her head as she sat up to give him a kiss.

"I know, honey, but you must take care of yourself." He took her face in his hands. "You need time to heal."

Wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, she drew his face close again, saying with a smirk, "mmm, but now my white knight is here to protect me from myself."

Hotch drew back, troubled by Lizzie's words. "Lizzie... honey..." Not knowing how to continue, he took her hands in his and looked down at them intently.

"What is it, babe?" Lizzie asked gently.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, still not meeting her eyes, trying to find the words. "It's just... you really shouldn't say things like that."

"Like what? That you're my white knight?"

"Yes."

"Why not? It's true, babe." He finally looked up at her and the smile was gone, replaced with a look of perfect sincerity. "You found me just as I knew you would. I _never_ lost faith in that." She paused. "I'm not being unrealistic when it comes to us though. I know some people might think otherwise but I didn't fall in love with you because of what you do." She placed a gentle hand to his cheek. "I fell for you because I have fun with you, I like being with you, you make me feel... happy... alive... intelligent... sexy... _needed_."

Searching her eyes for the truth of her words, Hotch then bent his head and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was tender and soft, filled with love.

~oOo~

The following week a case came up just outside Carson City, Nevada, and all through JJ's briefing, Hotch sat in the conference room, arms braced on the table and eyes down, not really taking in anything the Liaison was telling them; he would just have to read the case file on the plane. The only thought that was swirling around his mind was that he would have to leave Lizzie alone and he didn't know how long it was going to be before he returned. Perhaps it would have been better if she'd been in her own apartment, she would be more comfortable in her own familiar surroundings... but no, his own place was bigger and more secure, she would be better advised to stay there.

When the others got up to collect their go-bags and make their way to the airfield, he realised that the briefing was over. Rossi's voice filtered through his stormy thoughts.

"She'll understand, Hotch. Just give her a call and she'll be fine."

As usual, the older agent had read Hotch's thoughts accurately; not overly surprising given their long friendship and, of course, their knowledge of psychology. Hotch looked at his friend for a long moment before responding with a sigh. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

"Can her brother still not get away and stay with her?"

"No. I feel sorry for him, it's obvious he would like nothing more than to drop everything and come down here but I gather that it's just not possible to close up his business – apparently they have some financial worries."

Rossi made a sympathetic grunt and went back to the subject at hand. "You know that Garcia will be there if Lizzie needs her."

"She can't be around her all the time though, can she. Not while she's working the case with us," Hotch said sceptically, pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket. He then hit the speed dial for Lizzie's number and pressed send.

~oOo~

The case was another bad one – but then, when were they not? Two teenage girls had been raped and murdered in the space of the past fortnight and it was a race against time to catch the unsub before he struck again. Of course, when what they had in the way of leads dried up they then had to endure a nerve-wracking and guilt-ridden wait until another body turned up. Perfectionists all, the team inevitably spent that time going over the case notes relentlessly, desperate for any tiny detail they might have missed.

Hotch didn't call Lizzie while he was away; every time he picked up his phone to do so, he was reminded of the last time he did that and would throw the phone onto his hotel bed, sick to his stomach, and bury himself back into the case file. Sleep was a virtual impossibility until the early hours of each morning when he would collapse on the bed and allow exhaustion to take him under.

It was four days after their arrival in Nevada when a Police Sergeant burst into the conference room the team were using as a base of operations, confirming everyone's worst fear and only hope: another young woman's body had been discovered not far from the previous two and the scene was changed abruptly from one of frustrated silence to bustling activity. Rossi and Reid headed for the disposal site while Morgan and Prentiss were to go and speak to the family and, if they could determine the location of the girl's disappearance, Hotch ordered them to continue on there. Hotch himself stayed at the station with JJ to coordinate their efforts and amalgamate any new information into their profile. Hopefully this time the unsub would have left some new tidbit of information, some clue that would lead to his capture.

~oOo~

Lizzie was lying awake, her mind whirring too fast to allow sleep to take her; she was too worried about Hotch. She knew that she had been fragile for a while and was deeply grateful for his solicitude. But it was now more than a week since his return from Nevada and he had been distant ever since. Despite her numerous attempts to encourage him, he had barely touched her any more than was absolutely necessary. All effort on her part to initiate any intimacy was halted by his taking her hands and looking at her with mournful eyes. Okay, she knew it would take time to get back to where they were before... well, before the _incident_, but making love to this man had always made her feel incredibly close to him; their intimacy was something that she cherished. But he wouldn't even casually rest a hand on her leg, let alone slip one under her top to touch her skin as he used to.

She turned on her side and raised herself up on one elbow to look at her lover lying on his back next to her. Before her abduction, when she had watched him sleep, his face could only have been described as serene; the lines of care that he wore were smoothed away and she had even detected a faint smile on occasion, his adorable dimples revealed in the half-light. Most times, she had been unable to resist kissing him which would usually wake him up and that invariably would lead to dreamy, languorous sex, all the more intense for its slow, easy pace. Now, however, his brow was furrowed and those lines were present even in sleep. Lizzie so wanted to gently brush her fingers over them and see them disappear under her touch but she feared disturbing his rest.

As she watched, however, his head turned away and then back again rapidly and his arm whipped up between them under the covers. A moment later, it happened again but this time he didn't stop. Lizzie knew he must be having a nightmare and began to worry; she tentatively put a hand on his shoulder but he jerked away.

"Babe?" she said softly, trying not to shock him out of his dream. His breathing was heavy and he let out a low moan. "Babe," Lizzie tried a little more firmly. She reached out to him again, taking hold of his wrist as it flew up again. "Wake up." She was more or less sitting up now and manoeuvred her body closer to his so she could use it to keep him still. "Babe, wake up. You're having a bad dream." His strength was far greater than hers and he fought against her but she refused to let go; she took him in her arms and held on, talking to him in a calm voice, trying to wake him.

Suddenly he gasped and opened his eyes. His chest was heaving and he had broken out in a sweat. Lizzie whispered soothingly and stroked his hair, trying to keep as much of her body touching his as she could and held him until his breathing slowed a little. Eventually, his muscles relaxed and he tentatively put an arm around her, his head resting on her chest, and drifted back to sleep.

~oOo~

The days drew on and neither Lizzie nor Hotch mentioned the dreams which were now coming almost every night.

One evening, they had prepared their dinner almost in silence, Lizzie making an effort at conversation, but Hotch just wasn't able to force himself to be cheerful. Eventually she gave up and they sat at the table and ate mutely for a while before she couldn't stand it any more. "Babe are you okay?" Lizzie asked, concern filling her voice.

Hotch looked up at her and wished with all his heart that he could see past the bruises around her eyes, the cuts on her face and the cast on her arm, let alone the injuries that he knew were hidden under her clothes. He wished he could transfer every one of them onto himself, that he could take the pain, which he knew she still felt, away from her. "Yeah I'm fine," he said quietly, turning back to his food. Hotch knew he was behaving boorishly to Lizzie and that, were it anyone else, he may well have driven them away already; only Lizzie's steadfast love and loyalty, both dangerously misplaced in his opinion, had kept them together so far, and that was no thanks to him. But the more he thought about things, the more he felt responsible for everything that had happened. And he couldn't stop thinking about it. He had been the one to make the first move that had kicked off their relationship and, although it had been wonderful for a time, he was now beginning to realise that the bubble he had created for himself had been an illusion.

"Hey, what's going on?" she persisted, trying to catch his eyes again.

"Nothing," he lied and hated himself for it.

Lizzie paused for a moment. She had pushed away her half-eaten plate of food and turned her whole body to face him but he was trying to ignore that fact, studiously concentrating on finishing his own dinner even though every mouthful took an age to swallow. "Babe…" she began and then paused, as if trying to find the words. "You've barely said a word all evening."

"Honey, I'm sorry, but I'm just not in the mood for talking tonight, okay?" It sounded harsh, even to him, and Lizzie's face took on an expression of shock and pain which Hotch knew full well he had caused but he couldn't take back the harsh words.

"Okay," she said slowly, "this obviously is not 'nothing'. What's getting to you?"

"Nothing is getting to me." The words came out of his mouth automatically and he turned away from her once again, his self-disgust increasing with every moment.

"Babe," she began, reaching out her hand and bringing his face back around gently but firmly so that their eyes met. Her voice had gained an edge and her grey eyes were hard. "Don't shut me out," she warned. The warmth of her palm resting softly on his jaw was incongruous with her words and he was reminded once again of the incredible strength this woman held within her which bound together her disparate traits. "Talk to me," she insisted when he didn't answer. Hotch waited even longer, not quite knowing how to articulate what he was thinking, a sensation that he had rarely felt before and which made him even more frustrated. "We need to sort this out, babe. Ever since you went to Nevada, everything's changed. We don't talk, we don't laugh, we don't make love…"

Hotch quickly looked back up at her. "Well that's hardly fair – you have a fractured arm, Lizzie, and you're covered in bruises!"

"That wasn't a problem two weeks ago –" she began.

"That was a mistake," Hotch retorted.

"Fine, whatever, but you haven't even touched me, and you won't allow me to touch you. We don't have to go at it hammer and tongs, babe – there is some middle ground, isn't there?"

"Look… I just don't want to hurt you."

Her eyes and voice both softened as she said, "babe, you won't hurt me–"

"I just can't, okay?" He gazed at her penetratingly, defying her to continue.

"Oh, so when I get this cast off and the bruises are gone, there'll be a click and everything will suddenly go back to exactly the way it was before will it?" she asked sarcastically, snapping her fingers on the word 'click'.

Hotch knew that he more than deserved her tone and, much as he had wanted to avoid telling her until… well… ever, he knew he had to now. "Honey, I… I just don't know how _anything_ can go back to the way it was. I don't know how you make it through every day pretending that nothing happened to you. I look at you and a part of me wants to hold you in my arms and never let go. But another part of me daren't do that – you're just too fragile and precious." Lizzie started to interrupt but he couldn't allow her to, not now that he had started. "You know the dreams I've been having?" She nodded, relieved that he was finally opening up to her about them. "Well, I made out that I couldn't remember them but I do; every second is etched on my brain," he said bitterly. He paused, drawing up the courage to tell her. Then he swallowed the bile in his throat, looked straight at her and said, "it was me. In my dream." Lizzie looked confused. "_I_ was hitting you; _I_ kept you locked up and beat you. I could feel my fists strike you over and over and you begged me to stop but I ignored you." He drew a ragged breath and continued. "I _know_ it's just a dream," he said, pre-empting the consoling words he knew Lizzie would say, "and I've had plenty of nightmares following cases before – we all do – but this just won't leave me alone. Honey, it's my subconscious telling me that I'm responsible for what happened to you–"

Now Lizzie couldn't let him go on. "Oh babe, please–" but he interrupted her interruption.

"Lizzie, it's true. You don't know the whole story…"

"Actually I think I do," Lizzie began. "I know that Bell took me because I'm your girlfriend." Hotch was aghast; he had no idea that Lizzie knew the reasons behind Bell's attack, had hoped somehow to keep the full hateful knowledge from her. "He told me," she explained. "I managed to get him talking – well, ranting, actually," she said ironically. "I know he blamed you for his wife's murder and I'm pretty sure what happened to her was similar to what he did to me. But he was completely screwed up, babe," she insisted. "He had everything around the wrong way and he turned himself into a serial killer just to get his twisted revenge! It wasn't your fault that she died and it _certainly_ wasn't your fault that Bell attacked me – that was 100% his own doing. You _know _this, if you'd look at it objectively you'd see that. Babe, _I _don't blame you so why the hell should you?"

Hotch paused, gathering his thoughts. "You said that I was your white knight, Lizzie. But how can I be that to you if I'm hardly ever around? How can I protect you from all the Fred Bells out there? It's bad enough that you were abducted because of me, but Lizzie, you were abducted when I was miles away on a case, unable to do a single thing!"

"Babe, you can't be with me every single minute of every day!" Lizzie retorted, shocked. "People have been taken right from under their loved ones' noses in the past – we _both_ know this! It doesn't matter if you're five yards away or five hundred miles away, if someone's hell-bent on something, they'll find a way." Lizzie was beginning to regret the turn her argument had taken, realising that it was only making things worse, so she tried to change tack. "Yes, it was horrible, what Bell did to us, but I… Well… When I was in that basement, I never lost faith. I could see him devolving and I let it happen... encouraged it even. You know why I did that?"

"Because he was more likely to reveal something about himself if he wasn't in control," Hotch replied reluctantly.

"Exactly. And who do you think taught me that? You did."

Hotch was holding his head in his hands, again unable to meet her gaze. "Lizzie, I just can't do this anymore. You should be with someone who can be there for you."

"What the hell? Babe, please–"

"You deserve someone who's going to be around, who can protect you–"

"I don't _want_ anyone else–"

"–someone who won't put you in danger in the first place," he finished bitterly.

"Aaron, look at me!"

Hotch couldn't recall Lizzie ever having used his first name before – outside of the bedroom anyway – and he was brought up short by the realisation. Also she had never expressed anger towards him and he knew he'd gone too far.

"Don't confuse me with Hayley," her anger was simmering now she had his attention. "I'm not going to abandon you just because you're not here 24/7."

"Don't bring Hayley into this," he replied.

"Aaron, I've only ever known you as a profiler; you've always been the man who disappears for a time and puts his heart and soul into his work. I have never expected or even wanted you to stop being that man. I still managed to fall in love with you; being with you isn't as difficult as she made it out to be."

Hotch was shocked by Lizzie's hostility as she had never said a word against Hayley before. "Lizzie, you don't know what I put her through–"

Lizzie laughed sarcastically. "What you put _her_ through?" she said incredulously. "Perhaps not. But I know exactly what she put _you_ through. I saw every day how you drew more and more inside yourself and I hated her for it. I watched you cut yourself off from everyone – you barely cracked a smile, you never went out for a drink with us after work – in fact, you usually stayed in the office for hours on end. I remember once coming back for my car at about 11 o'clock and I saw the light still on in your office. At 11 o'clock!" she repeated. "The others used to joke that you lived there but personally, I didn't see it as much of a joke." Her eyes and voice both softened as she looked at him and continued. "I wanted to talk to you, to get you to talk to me, but how could I do that? If I talked about losing Michael I might make your loss seem less significant. All I could think of was to try to make you laugh, to take your mind away from any negative thoughts, even if it was just for a few seconds."

Her confession touched Hotch deeply but he couldn't let himself be swayed. "Lizzie, you've always been an amazing support to me – don't ever think that I'm not aware of that. But I just can't spend my entire life in a constant state of fear. I'm sorry."

"Fear of what?"

Hotch looked at the beautiful woman in front of him but couldn't see past the cut on her head that looked like it was going to leave a scar. "I put you in harm's way and I can't go through that again."

"But I'm fine. You saved me. You were my hero! Babe, you were what kept me from giving up; the thought of you was my lifeline. And I would go through all of it again just to hear you say you love me. Don't take away the one positive thing to come out of this, otherwise it was all for nothing."

"I do love you, honey. The time we've had together has been… incredible. But every moment you spend with me puts you in danger. You know the kind of people we deal with – they're obsessive and violent and if one of them wants to get to me, they'll go after you, just like Bell."

"So basically you're telling me that I don't get a say in this. Because some nut job _may_ at some undetermined time in the future decide to develop a grudge against you, I can't have you."

"Yes."

Lizzie looked at him for a long minute but he was resolute. The look in his eyes was one she'd seen innumerable times in the past but never had it been directed at her before. She deflated in the face of his obstinacy. "Okay," she said softly. "I'll collect my things and go."

~oOo~

**A/N: Thank you so much for sticking with me on this, at least I hope you do after that! I'm a bitch, aren't I? Now you know why this was so difficult to write. I hope it wasn't too disjointed but we had a lot of ground to cover in this chapter. As all writers say, reviews are as good as a naked Hotch (well... almost!). I promise, I won't take nearly a year to give you the next chapter like I did with this one!**

**Oh and it's probably about time I said this again: I don't own them... except Lizzie – she's mine.**


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